Under the Same Sky
by Huinari
Summary: Starting a journey across the region of Hoenn? Easy. Living up to the pressures and expectations of being the daughter of the region's supposedly strongest gym leader? Piece of cake. Having a god in human form tagging along with her while two groups with shady goals ignite ethnic conflict dating back to ancient times? Let's see how that one goes. [E/ORAS]
1. Prologue

Three minutes before the time Brendan was supposed to meet her at the Lilycove City Pokémon Center at her request, May dawdled in the empty bathroom washing her face with cold water over and over again. With every splash of water against her numbing face and stinging eyes, May wondered if she could wash herself away, so that parts of her would melt down into liquid and follow the water running down the metal of the sink into the drain and flow far, _far_ away from here.

She didn't even have to melt away. She would have taken washing away the outside of Margaret Ismay Gracie until she revealed whatever her true self was. Maybe she was adopted. That had to be it. Norman and Caroline Gracie adopted her when they initially couldn't conceive a child of their own, and then kept her out of pity, because neither of them were like her, weak and wanting to procrastinate the inevitable. They didn't like being in bad situations – no human did – but if it was a situation they were responsible for, then Norman and Caroline would have been upfront about it and taken responsibility.

May, on the other hand, just wanted to run away from it all like she usually tried to do. At heart, she was a coward who didn't want to deal with the questions that had no correct answers, the dilemmas with no proper solutions, the reality of life that had no happy ending in sight.

The water, pulled by gravity's unavoidable call, dripped off her face and hands, and the parts of her shirt that had gotten splashed in her attempt to 'man up' was damp and cold against her stomach. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a teenage girl with bags under her eyes that couldn't be hidden by the browned skin of her tanned face. Her clothes were rumpled, and smelt slightly sour from sweat. There weren't perspiration marks, which was a blessing, but the water stain that stuck the front of her shirt to her stomach was visible.

Nowhere in that reflection did she see a hero. She saw instead a failure.

Her PokéNav said that it was one minute past the promised time. Hoping he was punctual so she wouldn't have an excuse to flee, she wiped her wet hands on her thighs and opened the bathroom door so she could step back into the center's lobby.

The nurse receptionist was chatting with a young man May didn't find familiar, and there were a few people scattered around in the seats waiting for their Pokémon to be returned, but she didn't find Brendan.

Well, here was an excuse to flee, the weak part of her mind offered. It wasn't too late for her to stick her head into her pillows and pretend that none of this was happening. She could still choose to hide away from the world and let it go on without her.

Shoving the temptation into a deep, far corner somewhere far back in her mind and placing it under strict lock and key, May went to an empty seat and plunked her butt down on it. She tapped at her Poké balls, considering detaching one from her belt and just tossing it out to release the Pokémon within out in front of her. Having Pokémon out of their ball inside the center wasn't _illegal_ , but it was frowned upon unless it was an emergency or extenuating circumstances. For sanity issues or something. And sometimes people could be allergic, or sensitive to a scent, or have a phobia.

Besides, most of her Pokémon would be considered 'too big' for the lobby, except Darjeeling – and maybe Chamomile. Although some people might pick a bone over Darjeeling, or be creeped out by Chamomile's presence.

May raised her left thumb to her mouth, but paused before biting her nail. There were no whites left on the nail at all for her to bite on anymore. In fact, there was a significant dent in her once-square nail. Now it looked like a pink stepladder, with nearly a quarter of the nail picked away, revealing the soft skin under that wasn't supposed to be revealed. While she had been washing her face, the scab previously set in must have been washed off, because there was a drop of fresh blood squeezing out. The right thumb wasn't much better off than its left counterpart, either.

Even though it was a bad habit she was supposed to drop like a Slugma, May began picking at the edge of the remaining nail again, peeling thin layers away with stubby nails. She wasn't a masochist or a pain-lover or even a self-harmer by her standards, but there was just something about picking at her nails that was therapeutic. Even the pain that came from it could feel cathartic, in a way, although she did regret it when it hurt to touch pretty much anything later on.

She'd never ripped up her nails this much, though – especially not the tougher nails on her thumbs. Maybe it was because someone hadn't seen fit to remind her not to.

And speaking of that same someone . . .

"Stop mutilating your nails," said Brendan as he sank into the seat next to her. He frowned at the feeble cushioning of the cheap, brightly coloured seat, but didn't complain about the furnishing of the Pokémon Center or how good seating was critical for postural health or whatever was healthy.

Like magic, the urge to pick at her nails disappeared with his presence. May slipped her hands under her thighs so she could sit on them and keep the urge from coming back just in case.

"Thanks," May said, for both his reminder and for him coming here to meet her.

Brendan nodded, and then glanced around, eyes searching for a presence that he had expected to see with her.

"Where's Ray?" he asked, looking for the younger boy she had been travelling with the last time he ran into her. He was good with younger kids – especially boys – and younger boys usually loved him because to them, he was easily the nice, cool, good-looking older brother figure that they could look up to. Sure, his own younger brother was sometimes terrified of Brendan, but other than the occasional 'demon face' and the filthy mouth he got cussing out people when he was angry he was a cool guy to be around. Even if Ray had never fallen to his charms like other boys, Brendan was just the kind of person to care and be the one people could rely on in times of need.

Well, she would have liked to know where Ray was herself, because all she knew was that he was –

"Gone," she said.

The slight curve up Brendan's lips were wearing as usual slipped, and his handsome face turned worried.

"Is he . . . ?" Brendan began warily, forming ideas on why she called asking him to come and meet him here, and looked like utter crap.

"He's fine." Physically, anyways, he was fine. Mentally, May was pretty sure Ray was the very opposite of fine. Despairing. Demolished. Devastated. Very _un_ -fine.

Brendan relaxed slightly. "What's wrong?" he asked instead, deciding to let her talk instead of making wild guesses. He was always such a good person – a great friend – willing to listen and give. May was lucky that he was her best human friend, because she hadn't been such a great friend back to him recently.

The urge to pick at her nails came back. It was never the pain or that she felt satisfaction at seeing ruined nails on her hands. It was all about running away – not dealing with whatever she was supposed to be facing. Turning inwards, focusing on something else all so she could plug her ears and avert her eyes and hope that it would become solved without her having to do something about it.

But she couldn't run away – because that method had made her problem so much worse, and now all she could do was tell Brendan so that she could at least save him and his family. It was the least she could do, now.

"Remember how you asked me what was going on with me?" May asked instead. That had been, what, back in Lavaridge? Or Petalburg? When had she started breaking down, yet stubbornly tried to deny it, turning a blind eye and a deaf ear and doggedly going after her goal? When had she lied to Brendan by omitting the truth from him – who only wanted to help because he was concerned for his friend?

Brendan nodded.

"And how I promised that I would explain everything later?"

Another nod.

She laughed shrilly. There was nothing funny about anything in this situation. She was just nervous, and laughing was better than crying or screaming. "Promise me you'll believe me, even if I sound insane?"

Brendan blinked, like he hadn't expected this. "Should we go somewhere private?" he asked in a low, measured voice. There weren't that many people, but now that he said that, May wasn't sure if she wanted to be overheard. Call her selfish, call her proud, but she didn't want to open up to anyone else, even if that information could possibly save their lives.

While Brendan went to borrow a key for a bedroom from the receptionist so they could talk privately without worry, May gave herself one last chance and glance towards the exit.

She didn't take it, and he came back to lead her into a room. It was small, with a bunk bed and closet, but like other center rooms it was soundproof – to a certain degree – and it was enough for them to talk privately without interruption.

May took a deep breath. She still wanted to hide under her covers and close her eyes and let everything pass over her. She still wanted to go back to picking at her nails – and turn to maiming her toenails if there was nothing left on her fingers to rip apart – and just let someone else deal with the storm coming that she had failed to get rid of properly.

But she had been the one to make everything worse. While Ray might have played a part in it, she had also been a major contributor to the perfect, unavoidable storm coming – a storm that was inevitable, and would swallow everyone. Even the hate.

And if May couldn't save everyone, she would at least save Brendan.

So she began the story from the beginning, without twisting words or leaving things out. Even if it sounded insane, the truth was the best way.

"I met Ray on the night of my sixteenth birthday in my dreams, when he told me that he was Rayquaza and he needed my help to save Hoenn from a disaster in the near future."

It sounded insane, even to her, but that was how it started.

* * *

AN: putting Titanium on hold and starting on Hoenn because writer's block. Cover image credit goes to かねる (Pixiv ID 210476), who was kind enough to give me permission for use.


	2. 1-1 A Normal Girl

**Part One: A Normal Girl**

 _Chapter One: May Day_

 _May recounts a day that should have been normal, and yet ended up being the starting point of all this chaos._

* * *

For a day that started the arguably most chaotic year of her life, her sixteenth birthday wasn't all that weird.

Actually, as far as she was concerned, her sixteenth birthday – when looked at alone – went great.

In the morning, May woke up and looked out her window to see a bright, glorious morning. Ceylon and Chamomile almost immediately dashed over to her to nuzzle her and give her their birthday congratulations, chirping and crooning to her. She patted their heads, thanking them, and then got out of bed to change. Assam, not at all a morning Pokémon, still found the energy in himself to raise his head and purr at her a little before he curled right back up, ignoring the angry chirps of Ceylon or the disapproving look Chamomile sent him behind her green hair.

May just laughed, and let it slide.

Then she went downstairs to find that her mom – already up even though it was morning and everyone could sleep in just so she could do something special for her – had cooked her favourite foods, including the honey cakes that she hated making because somehow it always got her hair sticky. Her dad, sitting at the table and sipping his daily morning coffee, waved when he saw her coming down the stairs.

"Morning, May," he said, folding the newspaper and putting it aside.

"Morning Dad," May said on her way to the stove to hug her mom from behind.

"Careful," her mom said, putting down the spatula in her hand and wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "The oil might splash on you."

But she did turn around and hug May back. "Fourteen hours of pain and agony and screaming threats at your dad," she mumbled into May's head as she placed light kisses all over her hair. "All so very worth it. Especially screaming threats."

May laughed, and before she could be told the story in detail of how she was brought into this world, she went to hug her dad, who looked away at the mention of _That Day._

He wrapped his arms around her and patted her shoulders with his broad hands before leaning back and looking at her from an arm's length thoughtfully.

"How old are you now?" he asked contemplatively, looking too serious to actually be serious.

" _Dad_ ," May whined, and shook off his hands like a frustrated Growlithe puppy.

" _Norman_ ," her mom whined at the same time, making an exaggerated face towards her husband.

The gym leader just laughed and ruffled her hair. "I'm just kidding," he said, and then his smile widened into a smirk. "You're fourteen now!"

May mock-punched his bicep. He didn't even _pretend_ to flinch at the hit. " _Dad_!"

But she was smiling. There was no way he and mom would forget how old she was. She was born a few days after their wedding anniversary, and in their house to forget the anniversary meant certain death by enraged wife's spatula. Even one of the strongest gym leaders in Hoenn cowered at the wrath of his wife and the nearest kitchen appliance to her hand.

"Happy sixteenth, May," Norman said, and drained his coffee mug before getting up. "Can you put that away?" he asked, nodding towards the specialized 'Daddy' mug. "I need to go to work."

She pouted while her mom nagged him for not putting away his own dishes. "Wow, getting the birthday girl to do the work?" May said, but she still grabbed the dishes and stacked them into the sink to be washed later.

Norman shrugged. "I don't believe in spoiling children," he said. "You'll appreciate it in the long run, when you don't turn out to be a spoiled brat who can't even do anything by herself."

Her mom rolled her eyes as she handed May her own plate of steaming hot breakfast food. "Says the man who was spoiled all his life by his parents for being the only child," she muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I had a friend who was like a brother living next to me all my life," Norman pointed out, because he could now. "I learned to share by having to fight for my life. Anyways," he said, changing the topic. "I've got to go to work. May, I'll give you your present at dinner, alright?"

"Is this your way of saying you forgot to buy something beforehand?" May asked suspiciously.

Norman clutched his heart and pretended to stagger. "She's onto us, Caroline," he said dramatically. "Quick, hold her off while I go and initiate Plan B."

Her mom cackled.

Grinning, May shoved her dad playfully. "Have a nice day, Dad," she told him.

He smiled back. "You too, May." With a wave, he walked out the front door, whistling quietly.

Caroline kicked her out of the house after breakfast. "Go spend the day with your friends," she said, nodding to outside the window where her best girl friend Tiana was already waiting. The girl had moved to Oldale last month, but she still kept in touch with her extensively over the phone or the chat rooms. It was, however, still a treat to see her in Littleroot.

"I could help clean up," she offered half-heartedly, already grabbing her Poké balls.

Caroline just shooed her away, so May left the house. She'd make up for it on her mom's birthday, or their next anniversary.

"Happy day of birth to you!" Tiana crowed when May stepped out the door. The redhead reached over to lightly slap at her arm sixteen times, paused, and then slapped her again, extra hard.

"Hey," May protested, rubbing at the spot. It didn't hurt, but she liked to whine. "I'm not seventeen."

"I misplaced the numbers of strikes I was placing upon your arm for the customary day of birth greeting," Tiana replied simply. "And did not wish to risk the possibility of giving you too little. Those are supposed to be bringers of good fortune – you should know this better than I, having been the one to enlighten me upon this subject matter. Now come!"

May rolled her eyes, but let Tiana drag her off to spend the day goofing off. They dropped by the movies and got a free ticket for being a birthday girl.

"Where are the others?" May asked.

"The consensus was that we would assemble at the 'pizza place'," Tiana replied. "Most of them had already attended the playing of this particular film prior to this day, and did not wish to spend their good money watching it again."

Her usual habit of not attending the movies with the rest of them was something Tiana always whined to her about.

Not like she was going to change it, but still.

"Oh well," May said, flopping her head onto Tiana's shoulder. "More time spent together, right?"

Tiana snorted and good-naturedly shoved her head off. Then, she moved onto the most important part of watching movies – the snacks. "What do you think?" the dark-haired girl asked, hands on her hips as she looked at what the snack counter had to offer. "Classic, or covered with what they attempt to pass off as genuine melted caramel?"

"Just butter, no salt," replied May. "There's too much salt in them anyways."

Tiana made a face. "Unhealthiness is good for thy soul. Live a little, dear friend of mine."

She still asked for no salt on her popcorn when she ordered, despite the odd look the teen working at the counter gave her. Much like her dad, she didn't like her food too salty, and unfortunately Hoenn tended to _over_ -salt things. Even after being back in Hoenn for a while now, May still preferred the milder approach Johto took with its culinary habits.

"Hey," she said in response to Tiana's look of disapproval at caring for her health and wellbeing. "I got a soda, see?"

Tiana sniffed in mock-disapproval, as if to say that would have to do, but then the movie started and they quieted down.

They ended up finishing the popcorn thirty minutes into the movie, and spent the rest of their time laughing and scraping at the bottom of the paper bucket in the hope that they could snag some kind of popped tidbit.

"We've got to watch that again," May said, walking out and dumping the bucket into the nearest trash can.

"I believe I've caught word of a sequel to that film in the makings already," Tiana replied, wiping her greasy hands on a napkin. "You have in your possessions the coupons, correct?"

May checked her bag. "Yeah."

"Marvellous. Let us be off, then, and join the others."

The local pizzeria offered birthday discounts to people who gave them their information. Normally, May liked to keep her email address out of any hands connected to stores and businesses, but the family business was too good to pass up on deals and coupons. For her birthday, they sent her a fifty percent off discount, and she was planning on making good use of that.

Her other friends, waiting outside the local favourite, waved when they saw her approach.

Brendan – the only boy in the group – was the first to greet her. "Hey, happy birthday!" he said, and was echoed by the others.

"Thanks, guys!" she said, hugging them all – even Brendan, despite Tiana's questioning look. Tiana was convinced that because May and Brendan had broken up and decided to 'just be friends', there would definitely be tension between their relationship forevermore.

To be honest, though, Tiana's constant assumptions and exaggerated actions were the ones causing any minor tensions that came into existence. May and Brendan had gone out because it had been expected by everyone – even their families – and then, a few months into it, they had realized that they were more comfortable as friends, and simply renamed the status of their relationship back into what it had been. Plain and simple.

If Tiana would live a little more in the real world instead of the fictional one, she might know some more about interactions between people. But still, May liked her friend the quirky way she was.

Between the six of them, they ordered three pies, getting a vegetarian option for Tiana, a Pinap and ham for May and Brendan, and a cheese for anyone who didn't want to stick with the first two. They also added a few Pokémon food and treats to the order, and let their Pokémon out in the section of the restaurant where Pokémon were allowed to hang out.

"Behave," she told Ceylon, Assam and Chamomile before returning to her table, even if she didn't have to. The three of them knew better than to try and hurt or destroy anything.

Still, it was better safe than sorry. Besides, while May could trust Assam and Chamomile to behave themselves, it was Ceylon and her hot-headed tendencies she was more worried about, especially since Thales was also there. And the Torchic loved challenging the Marshtomp over everything, even with the type disadvantage.

While they waited for the pizzas to come, her friends handed over wrapped gifts. Her presents, she found as she opened them, included several gift certificates, a tea collection with five fruity blends for the summer, a newly released perfume she'd been planning to get and an album from her favourite artist.

They knew her so well.

"Thanks guys," she said, putting them away to make room on the table as the server came with two pans in his hands. He left and returned soon with the last pizza.

Brendan smirked at her. "As long as you're buying, birthday girl."

"Bastard," May quipped with a fond grin.

"Hey, as long as I get food, you can call me whatever you like. And speaking of which, where's the cake?"

"Cake will come at a later time for May," Tiana said as she brought out a white cardboard box. May had been forbidden from buying the cake for her party herself, and Tiana had been suspiciously tight-lipped on just what her choice had been. "And consumption of cake on one's day of birth is a concept far too overused for my liking, so I took the decision into mine own hands and obtained – birthday ice cream cupcakes."

"Whoa," said one of her friends, staring at the ice cream and whipped cream stacked in waffle cups. "That's huge."

"That's what she said," the rest of them chorused, before they all broke out into laughter. It was ice cream, the weather was hot, and dessert before the meal sounded great, so they agreed the cupcakes would be eaten before the pizza.

May, as birthday girl, got first dibs and chose the caramel flavour with the chocolate-dipped waffle cup, and then made a wish for a good year ahead before plucking off the graham cracker garnish and popping it into her mouth. It was cold enough to offset the humid heat of Hoenn's May Day, and delicious.

When they were done their food and finished talking loudly – and possibly annoying other patrons with their constant giggling – they decided it was time to go. Her friends gave her long hugs, congratulated her on her sweet sixteenth and then left. Tiana and Brendan helped her carry her gifts back to her home, and then stayed to play a few rounds of her game on her video console. Brendan left first, because he had to pick up her brother, and his leaving prompted Tiana to remember that her own brother might be getting into trouble back in Oldale, and head back home herself.

May fed her Pokémon, and played with them so her mind wouldn't wander to a philosophical path on passing of time and the cycle of life and other deep subjects she didn't want to get into, not on her birthday.

Her dad came home early from work with a box holding a green tea flavoured cake inside, and after dinner her parents made speeches about how proud they were of her, and how much they loved her. Or rather, her mother gave an elaborate speech about how every hardship was nothing when she looked at May, and she wanted her daughter to grow up to be a strong, happy woman, and that even if she wasn't as cute and lovely as she had been when she was a baby, she was still the most beautiful thing in the world to her, while her father agreed with everything his better half said.

"No matter how old you are," her mom said, looking a little misty in her eyes. "You'll always be my baby girl."

Her dad raised a wineglass. "Same," he said, keeping it simple and less wordy, and then was smacked on the arm by his wife for not being creative with the birthday speech. "Stop hitting me! I can't believe I married such a violent woman."

"I can't believe I married such an unoriginal man," she retaliated. "Sometimes, Norman, I swear you have the personality of a log. A log, you hear me? A log!"

Laughing, May sipped at the wineglass filled with sparkling Pecha cider as her dad lit the candles on the cake.

"Make a wish," he said after his wife forced him to sing the birthday song with her. No one in the family had any musical talents, and the botched melody of the supposedly simple song made all the Pokémon present flee the room in fear of losing their hearing or sanity. May thought they were overreacting a bit, but then again, most Pokémon had more sensitive hearing than humans did.

What could she wish for? The day had been a perfect birthday. She had spent time with her friends, her family and her Pokémon and she'd been so happy. Her marks were good in school, and despite having broken up with Brendan a month and a half ago and Tiana's belief that they would forever be awkward with each other, she was pretty content with her life, and had no one she was particularly in love with or even interested in that way. She'd already made the wish before, and repeating it seemed repetitive.

There was nothing realistic she particularly wanted to wish for.

Shrugging, May leaned in and blew the candles out. 'I'll save the wish for when I need it,' she thought to herself as her mom clapped and elbowed her dad into clapping.

"Norman, give her the gift," her mother said as she removed the candles from the cake and began to cut a slice from it.

"Gift?" May had been joking in the morning. She considered her gift from her parents being them buying her some supplies to begin her journey for gym badges across the region. Basic things, but when added up they were costly – and her father, as a Gym Leader, knew about the importance of proper supplies and insisted on the best, just in case. Not as pretty, but the sentiment was there, and she would have been satisfied.

"Of course," Norman said, taking out a small, packaged box the size of her palm – a box meant for jewelry.

"Oh, Dad, Mom," she said, feeling like a little girl again. "You shouldn't have."

Caroline leaned down to put May's plate of cake – first slice belonged to the birthday girl, after all – in front of her, and began reaching for the box. "If you won't, I'll take it."

May snatched it up. "On second thought thank you so much dear, generous parents of mine who won't be so petty to take back a gift. No backsies."

Both of them grinned, and she smiled right back at them.

Then May opened the gift her parents gave her and gasped when she saw that it was a necklace. "It's so pretty!" she said with a squeal, reaching for the clasp so she could try it on. The pendant had an emerald with an oval cut the size of half her pinky nail set in a twisting knot of sterling silver.

"Your birthstone," her mom said wryly as she slipped it on, "as you've so kindly reminded us."

May blushed. So maybe she hadn't been as subtle as she'd thought, leaving magazines flipped open to pages with articles focusing on birthday-related topics like birthstones and birth flowers and astrological signs, with emeralds and other May-related things pointedly circled. But she hadn't meant they should get her something super expensive or anything. It was just meant to be a reminder of her birthday.

Still, this was such a pretty necklace. "Is this real?" she asked, picking up the pendant and raising it so it was closer to her eyes. The green – her favourite color, even if Brendan told her she looked better in shades of red – stone sparkled when it caught the light, and she felt her lips curve up in an automatic smile.

"Of course," said her dad. "I wouldn't want some fake rock touching my girl, now that she's all grown up. My girl deserves nothing but the real thing for her birthday."

While her mom mock-chewed him out for not getting _her_ , his _actual_ girl, the real stuff on _her_ birthday, May giggled as she gingerly played with the silver pendant hanging below her collarbone.

"Alright," her dad said in mock-surrender. "I give. I'll get you something with a diamond on your next birthday."

"Her birthday's in February, Dad, not April," May said. "Her birthstone's an amethyst."

"I'm good with a diamond," her mom interjected. "Preferably a large one. It better be a large one. Norman, are you listening? You're looking away and not meeting my eyes. Norman. _Norman_. Don't you look away from me or I will _spit in your food_."

May laughed harder, clutching at her aching sides, while her dad grinned and agreed to do what his wife demanded.

It was, all things considered, one of the best birthdays May had ever had, with the day filled with happiness and joy and just normality in general.

* * *

Normally, she didn't remember her dreams. Sleep, for her, was something too enjoyable to be ruined by hallucinations conjured up by her crazy brain. Occasionally, she woke up from nightmares with details like serial killers stalking around the house – which never failed to expand into a never-ending labyrinth as she was chased – dressed like either a Mr. Mime or some creepy ghost Pokémon, but she soon forgot about the details in those.

She didn't dream much in her sleep. And she had _definitely_ never lucid dreamed before. That was for the annoyingly smart people like Brendan to do.

So it was weird when she found herself floating in the air. Like, _literally_ in the air. Everything around her was the vast skies, blue with white clouds merged in shapes like white cotton candy in the distance, individual wisps gathered to make clusters of cotton spilled onto a background spectrum of varying blue.

It wasn't like one of those cartoon scenarios where a character died and ended up in 'heaven', which turned out to be a wide-open ceiling place in the skies with cloud flooring. It was just her, floating around and chilling in the skies, empty of all life save for her. Below her were patches of clouds, some parts thin enough for her to see through and catch glimpses of the deep blue and green of the ocean or dark brown of islands scattered about or the Hoenn mainland and hold up, what.

That was Hoenn. She saw the country as if she was looking down from a height beyond the reach of any bird. She watched as a blue light emerged from the seas of Hoenn's east, and a red light from the center of western Hoenn, where Mount Chimney was. The two lights grew and grew until they had swallowed up Hoenn. They refused to mix, but fought for dominance, struggling to cover more of Hoenn in their colors.

For some reason, the sight left her mouth dry and her heart pounding. The opaque lights looked innocent enough, but she knew that there was something wrong about them. They were dangerous.

"That's not good," she muttered, watching the lights pulse around each other. They didn't merge to make purple, but rather swirled around Hoenn like two Mightyena circling each other in a fight, growling and ready to lunge to tear at the other's throat any moment. The menacing lights continued to expand, spreading slowly but surely out of Hoenn, beginning to encompass the world.

"No, it's not."

Startled, she looked up and saw a man floating like she was. Looking like he was in his late twenties to early thirties, he had messy green hair and olive-toned skin. Draconid, maybe, or a half-Tierran, half-Atlantian like Brendan. She never was good at telling just which ethnicity someone was based on their appearances. His clothes were pretty normal, a green jacket and black jeans – normal for the streets, or casual wear, that is. Not for where they were, but enough for her to say that part of him was normal.

What made him weird were his eyes. Golden irises were uncommon, but they existed. However, this was the first time May saw someone with black sclerae. She never realized just how important the whites of someone's eyes were in making them look normal. Black them out, and suddenly the whole appearance felt _wrong_. Like some monster-possessed character from a horror movie working to end the world.

"Who are you?" she asked. This was beginning to feel more and more like a nightmare starring demonic people, and she hoped that she'd forget it like she did with most of her dreams when she woke up.

The green-haired man looked up from his gazing down at Hoenn, still encircled by the lights. She fought the urge to cringe when the blacks of his eyes were directly visible. "I am Rayquaza," he said. "Dragon King and god of the skies."

May frowned. She was never really big on religion and mythology, but she knew a few of the more popular gods. Ho-Oh from her time spent living in Johto, and Latios and Latias, whose temple she dropped by every now and then to recite some prayers and donate a little money to. Rayquaza was a Hoennian god, and an important one, but he was, like he'd said, a dragon and a god of the skies. Those sounded more like Dragon and Flying-types to her. She hadn't been aware he'd been psychic and capable of walking into people's dreams, taking on the form of a human guy.

"Okay," she said slowly, because this was a dream and sure, why not. "Why are you here?"

He didn't answer her question this time, and instead nodded towards Hoenn and the lights that were using the region as their personal arena. "Do you know what those lights are?"

May looked at the lights, and decided to humour him. "Not really."

Rayquaza snapped his fingers. The scene over Hoenn reset, and the lights were beginning to come out once more, the red from the west and blue from the east.

This time, though, the light was transparent, and she could see what was happening. The red light led to Hoenn burning, and the earth shaking. Despite the distance, she saw like she was there the cities being destroyed as the infrastructures were crushed under the might of nature, and fires bursting out under the intense heat and destruction. Tall skyscrapers, suburban homes, stores, schools, hospitals all crumbled like shaken cookies, falling and breaking in pieces with jagged edges that soon broke as well.

At the same time, the blue light led to heavy rain and tidal waves the size of skyscrapers. They started at the ocean, but the small islands and settlements near the ocean were swept away instantly at the downpour and tsunami waves, disappearing under the harsh water that turned to start clawing away at the edge of the land nearest to shore.

When the two lights clashed, the weather began to change rapidly, going from one extreme to the other. The intense heat dried up all the water in an area before the sudden rainfall flooded the place, only for the sunlight to return and bring drought, baking the formerly drowning lands into a crisp and leaving only wreckage behind.

Under such conditions, nothing stood any chance of survival. She saw no lifeforms in Hoenn – no humans, no Pokémon – but she saw the weather war continue until there was nothing left except ravaged land and new bodies of water all across Hoenn. The lights continued to circle the region, wiping out everything, before it began to spread outwards to the rest of the world.

What about the people, though? What about the Pokémon? What if they _had_ been present in this? Pokémon were resilient creatures – the strongest monsters could withstand focused blizzards, the earth being torn up under their feet, and being hit with a wave of water five times their size – but could they stand against something like this? Nature, tearing itself apart?

No. And if Pokémon couldn't survive it, then what were the odds of humans surviving it? What would happen if a regular person got caught up in this weather blender freak storm?

May shuddered, suddenly feeling very, very sick.

Rayquaza snapped his fingers again, and the lights stopped. Hoenn was restored to its former state.

"What are those lights?" May asked, a lot more serious about the matter. It was like watching an apocalyptic movie, and those always left a bad taste in her mouth, no matter how it ended.

"That," he said. "Was Kyogre, titan and queen of the oceans, and Groudon, titan and king of the land, fighting each other."

Those were the names of Hoenn's strongest, most well-known gods, the ones the myths about the beginning of the world were attributed to. Even she had heard of them, and vaguely remembered them told in fairy tale format when she was young.

"Like the legend," she said slowly. "About how the world was created."

"Precisely."

"But that wasn't _creating_ the world," May said, feeling like she was pointing out the obvious. "That was _destroying_ it. And aren't they supposed to be kind of chilling it? Like, forever asleep till the end of the world and all that?"

The question 'is the end of the world coming near the immediate future' was left unsaid. She was afraid of voicing that out loud and hearing the answer.

"Correct," Rayquaza said. "Sometime next year, most likely around this time, the two titans will awaken and face each other in combat. Hoenn will be their first battleground as they meet in a fight that will, if left unchecked, destroy the country as you've seen before moving on to the rest of the world."

She let out a hysterical laugh. _That_ was supposed to come to Hoenn next year? "You – you're kidding, right? The world's going to be destroyed on my seventeenth birthday?"

He just looked at her with his eyes, a spot of gold surrounded by black. Looking into his eyes directly, May saw in the gold something move. Not like a trick of the light shifting and reflecting, but an image of clouds drifting inside them, like he had skies in his eyes.

"Perhaps not destroyed completely, but definitely devastated to the point where it could be called destruction by some. Unless you can save it."

May stared at him, waiting for the punch line of the joke. It never came. "Me," she repeated, numbness wearing off.

He nodded. "You," he said for clarification's sake.

"Me?" she said again, also for clarification's sake but also because she still had difficulty believing it. Now this, _this_ was a ridiculous dream. "You're kidding, right? How am I supposed to stop two gods from deciding that they're going to destroy the world by fighting with each other? By making a wish on the candles stuck in my birthday cake? 'Oh, for my seventeenth birthday, I wish the world wouldn't get killed. Phoo.' That sounds about right."

A small part of her mind that couldn't read the mood in the air reminded her that she still had her birthday wish saved up. May squashed that part.

"Birthday wish or not," he said, apparently taking her joke as a serious statement. "You still have a year before the titans awaken and begin battle. That's a year you have to travel across Hoenn and become its hero."

"I'm a sixteen-year-old girl!" she cried, hoping that the self-proclaimed god of the skies would understand just _what it was_ he was saying out loud. "I _literally_ _just_ turned sixteen, like, less than twenty-four hours ago! My birthday cake is still being digested somewhere in my intestines right now! And you're telling me that I'm going to be some kind of a hero that's going to stop the gods from waking up a year later and deciding, hey, it's a great day to destroy the world?"

His eyes, surrounded by black, were really freaking her out. Especially when he looked at her intently, like he was a dragon – a hungry, powerful one who thought of her as nothing more than dinner. At least dragons and powerful Pokémon made her feel like she was weak and powerless – his gaze made her feel more insignificant than that, like her existence mattered so little it wasn't worth anything.

"You are capable of becoming the hero Hoenn needs," he said simply.

May hesitated. Rayquaza sounded incredibly sure of himself, and so very credible because of his confidence in the way those that were surefooted tended to appear to other people regardless of what BS they were spouting.

But then she realized one critical, crucial detail that wasn't being discussed. "This is a dream," she said.

"Well, yes," he said. "I thought this would be a better place to talk than, say, your bedroom. More convenient."

She ignored him. "This is a _dream_ ," she repeated. "This isn't even _real_ – I don't have to worry about this." She laughed in relief, ignoring the fact that she had never once lucid dreamed in her life. That was for creative people like Brendan, or extremely intelligent geniuses like –

May metaphorically punted _that_ train of thought out the window. If she was lucid dreaming – was this how lucid dreams even went? She had no idea – then the last thing she wanted to do was go down that road.

"The choice is yours," he said, but she had already decided to not listen to whatever it was he was telling her now. "But you should know this isn't a dream."

"Uh-huh. The last time someone said that in my dreams, it was Steven Stone taking me through Johto to save the traditional dancer girls of Ecruteak City from a maze that popped out of nowhere and ate people, and it was still a dream." That actually being a dream had been a disappointment to May, because although the dream itself had been scary, it had still been _awesome_ being with Steven Stone.

Rayquaza sighed, and waved his hand. The skies all around her dissolved, and everything went black, the last sight remaining like a seared impression on her eyelids a pair of golden eyes.

Then she was conscious and in her bed, feeling the sweat on her neck and back – the only physical remnants of the admittedly intense, realistic dream. Did that count as a nightmare?

Deciding it did, she climbed out of bed, shivering a little when the cold struck her sweat-dampened skin. It was still dark outside, and there were probably a few hours she had left to get some more sleep. She'd go to the bathroom to use the toilet, and then come back to climb into bed and return to catching some z's.

May walked out of her room, navigating through the dark using her memory, and went to the bathroom. She emptied her bladder, washed her hands, and then walked back to her room, eyes adjusting to the darkness. Using what little light was available, she got back into her bed without stubbing her toe on any of the books and binders lying around the floor, making a mental note to clean up when the light returned. She wiggled into the comfort of her covers, and pushed around her pillow a few times so that her neck and head was comfortable.

And then a book abruptly landed heavily on her lap with a soft _whump_ , like it was tossed from her desk across the room in the darkest corner.

At the same time, a voice cut through the dark like the book did. "Believe me now?"

May nearly screamed, but at the last second remembered that her parents were probably asleep, and that screaming would probably wake and bring them running to check what was wrong. Instead, she bolted upright with a loud exhale of air that was more of a strangled gasp and stared at the direction the book and the voice had come from.

The guy from her literal dreams sat in her chair, looking at her with a slightly sarcastic and cynical smile. He exactly the same as she'd seen in her dreams, still with his eerie black sclerae – but with additional creepiness now, thanks to the dark – except now he was in her room. Her slightly messy room with the laundry still scattered on the ground. While she was still in bed, in her usual bedroom attire – that was to say, loose shorts and a large t-shirt. No bra.

She yanked up the covers to cover herself. "Get out!" she hissed.

"Will you be Hoenn's hero, and help me save the region?" he asked, no change in face.

May resisted the urge to pick up the book and throw it right back in his face.

"Look," she said. "This is really sudden, and I have final exams soon, okay? Just – just let me think about it. This sounds like a big decision and being rash doesn't help anyone. Give a girl some time before asking her to make a huge commitment, you effing weirdo."

May was babbling, and she was amazed most of what she said made sense. All she knew was she just _really_ wanted this guy out because she was _really_ not ready to be talking about being heroes while she was like this.

She didn't think that her blathering had much convincing in them, so she was surprised when Rayquaza sighed and nodded.

"You're right," he said reluctantly. "This is a big decision, and one that should not be made rashly by a tired mind. I'll return for your answer in three days."

"How about I call you instead?" May suggested instead. Exams were _not_ over in three days. Then she realized that Rayquaza, or at least a god, probably did not have social media or a phone. "I could just . . . shout your name into the sky?" That would work, right? If he was the sky god and everything like he claimed to be that should work. That was how prayers basically worked, wasn't it?

He rolled his eyes to that, and had his eyes been normal, she might have said something. As it was, she kept her mouth shut lest she said something wrong and pissed him off. Those eyes were creepy.

"I may have something better," he said, plucking something out of his pocket, and tossed the object towards her. She caught it, fumbled, and dropped it into her lap.

Fail.

Flushing, she picked it up. When she held it up to the dim light coming from her window, she saw that it was some kind of . . . _thing_ roughly the size of her palm. It _looked_ like a ship anchor made from a cool, metallic rock, but it was light and felt hollow, and there were holes punched down its length.

In other words, she had no idea what it was.

"What is this?" May asked.

"That is the Eon Flute," Rayquaza told her. "Play it once you've made up your mind, and I'll come. In three days, a flash storm will hit Hoenn. Be careful."

He rose from his seat, walked over to the window and opened it before climbing out. May would have gotten out of bed to say goodbye or something, but she _still_ wasn't wearing a bra underneath and it was _still_ embarrassing.

"Please," he said, gripping the rim of her window. "Keep the fact that you've spoken to me, or been chosen as Hoenn's Hero a secret."

"I don't think something like that will exactly come up in regular, every-day conversation," May said drily, finally regaining her voice at the chance to retaliate with sarcasm. "And _possible_ Hoenn's Hero. I haven't given my answer yet, remember?"

Unless 'no' was not an acceptable answer for him, which would be a little problematic for her. May wondered what he would do if she refused to be the hero he was asking her to be, but didn't quite have the guts to ask that just now. That question could be put off for now.

He gave her a nod before he jumped out. May scrambled out of her bed and rushed over to the window to look, but there was no self-claimed god guy on the ground.

Making an educated guess, she looked towards the sky, and saw a streak rapidly flying through the air. It was too dark for her eyes to tell, but the streak might have been an emerald green in colour.

She looked at the streak until it disappeared from sight, and then stared for a bit longer into the darkness like it owed her answers before closing the window. Then, she took the book and the anchor-thing he'd thrown at her and put it on the ground next to her bed. She laid down back in her bed, but didn't end up falling back asleep for a long time.

Three days later, there was a freak storm completely unpredicted by the weather station. It thundered and rained like there was no tomorrow, and yet the sun still shone through the clouds so that in between the heavy darkness there was merciless light.

The storm lasted for only a few hours, and by the time noon rolled about it was already sunny, and people were beginning to forget about it.

May, however, couldn't. It reminded her too much of what she'd seen in the dream – a world being destroyed by sun and rain, by heat and cold, by land and ocean.


	3. 1-2 A Normal Girl

**Part One: A Normal Girl**

 _Chapter Two: May the Force_

 _May goes through the motions of her usual life, and comes to a decision._

* * *

According to the myths she quickly looked up to refresh her memories, the story of Hoenn's two most powerful and well-known gods went like this.

In the beginning of the world, when there was nothing but a void, the two titans rose out of Nothing to fill it, but soon came upon each other and disagreed on what the end results should be. Kyogre, with a soul of the deep seas and dark abyss, sang a song to fill the world with water, so that the heavens could be reflected on mortal earth. Groudon, burning with a fiery heart, roared a battle cry for land to stand firm and support the skies like pillars.

And, of course, since water and land were two different things, they naturally came to the realization that their vision of the ideal world vastly differed when compared to the other's.

Unable to settle into an agreement on what the world should look like, they tore each other, and the world, apart. Where they fought, water and land came to be and were reformed into valleys and lakes, rivers and crevasses, mountains and oceans.

Their battle filled and shaped the world, and continued on until they grew exhausted, and settled into slumber. Other versions pointed to a third god, less known but said to be even more powerful than the two. The tales of the Draconids spoke of Rayquaza of the skies above, who, unable to bear the fight between the two titans any further, descended from his empyrean home to cease their battle once and for all, forcing them to fall into a deep sleep.

Countless years later, when the gods woke again, they fought once more, and shook the world with their battle. Only when the humans that they had grown to care for in their dreams begged for mercy did they stop and retreat, each promising their nemesis that when the End of the World came along, their last fight would take place.

In the aftermath, life slowly came back and restored what had been destroyed. Both humans and Pokémon worked together to fix what remained, and the world was eventually healed.

The flute, she could have ignored. May brought home junk – usually from the flea market or some other knickknack-selling places she liked to visit – and forgot why she had it in the first place all the time. Her dream could have been just that – the results of a birthday celebration mixed with her subconscious wanting to point out something in her possession. In this case, a ship anchor thing made from a metal-like rock that her mind seemed to think was a flute.

Ridiculous. Musically challenged as her entire family was, even she knew that was not how flutes were supposed to look like. What sense did it make for a flute to look like an anchor?

It was absurd, and exactly the weird thing she might have dreamt up while sleeping off birthday cake.

(She never played it, though, just in case.)

But the storm, too? A freak storm that was so close to what she had seen for comfort? On the day Rayquaza told her about? And nice of him to confirm it for her, to make sure she couldn't go into denial mode.

Almost like he knew what kind of thought process she'd go down.

Maybe, May thought, it was because he was actually a god like he said, and knew through his godly powers.

Just in case May grabbed the Eon Flute and stabbed the pointier part into her thigh.

The result was a flash of pain as her thigh protested at the self-harm.

"Ow," she muttered.

Okay. This was real. And this was happening. And the flute was definitely in her hands and a real thing and let's face it, even if it had been a dream, even May wouldn't have bought this so-called flute because she sure as heck wasn't musical enough to waste money buying instruments, and it was the weirdest-looking instrument she'd ever seen.

She was rambling internally. Her thoughts were getting messy.

There was really only one solution to this.

May buried her face in her pillow and screamed. Chamomile, the only one out of her ball right now, tapped at May's leg in worry, making her realize how this must have all looked to the Ralts. First her trainer was in serious thought. Then she was hurting herself. Then she was burying her head into her pillow and screaming like she did when she was super stressed. It was no wonder Chamomile was worried about May.

"I'm fine, Cham," she said, lifting her face as she tried to reassure the small Pokémon.

The Ralts gave her a decidedly unimpressed look, and tapped at her red horn with a nearly sassy hand. Well, it would have been sassy on anyone else, but on her it just looked like exasperated concern. She was too sweet to pull sassy or spicy off.

The message still got across, though. _'You clearly are_ not _fine, and I would know, I am a psychic that can feel emotions.'_

"I am," she insisted. It wasn't a lie. Physically, though she was stressed – both from every day stuff like upcoming exams and the thought of _the world ending with only someone like her to stop it holy Latias and Latios watching over from the heavens above **why**._

Okay so maybe it was a lie, and maybe she wasn't fine, because a self-claimed god had decided that she would make a good hero.

How did one go around becoming a hero, anyways, or stop gods from deciding to destroy the world? That wasn't exactly something one learned at school. Or at home. Or, well, anywhere, as far as she knew.

Come to think of it, she probably should have asked that instead of making sarcastic cracks about birthday wishes. For all she knew, being a hero entailed something like being a live sacrifice to appease the weather gods being locked in a destructive wrestling match with each other, which was a major no-no in her books.

And more importantly . . . .

"Why _me_?!" she wailed into her pillow again. Cham sighed again, but May ignored her Pokémon for now. Why her? Out of all the people in Hoenn, half of whom were probably more experienced and qualified than she could be, why _her_? Why was _she_ the good choice to make to go on this wacky fantasy quest thing?

She wondered if she could just ignore it all and pretend it had never happened. Sure, there was that anchor thing, but she could toss it away and forget about it. It wouldn't be hard.

The only problem was that Rayquaza had visited her in both her dreams and bedroom, and she didn't know whether he would get violent if she didn't go along with it. If he had access to her pretty much wherever, then there really wasn't anywhere she could go to be safe from him. He didn't seem like he would take no for an answer, either, considering he had come straight into her bedroom from her dreams to tell her that she was going to be saving Hoenn.

May huffed.

 _Can you ignore it?_ A voice in the back of her mind whispered, traitorously tugging at her to look at what would happen if she did. _Can you really turn a blind eye to all the innocent lives that will be lost?_

"I'm not a hero," she said aloud, more to convince herself than anything. "Saving the world is a job for a hero, not for someone like me."

Because May was just regular civilian B in the back of movies. Maybe a minor named character if she stretched it – but only thanks to her dad, because he was a Gym Leader and those would be a relatively major character in a story. By herself, she really wasn't all that important.

Unless Rayquaza had approached her because she was Norman Gracie's daughter?

She disregarded the thought almost immediately. Her father was awesome, a talented battler and fairly important in Hoenn as a Gym Leader, but by no means was he on par with legendary heroes and gods.

And neither was she, so _what_ was the thing that made her so special?

"Rruu?" Chamomile clambered over to lie on the bed, stomach flat, next to May. She looked at her human trainer with concerned red eyes behind light green bangs.

May smiled weakly at the psychic. "Sorry, Chammy," she apologized, lightly ruffling her head around the red horns. "My emotions must be a mess, huh?"

The petit Ralts shrugged elegantly, as if to say, 'what else is new?' And then gave her a 'I'm hungry so please feed me before I decide to indulge Ceylon and Assam in all their insane ideas' look.

May obeyed, picking up Chamomile and taking her downstairs to the kitchen. Sweet food for Cham, spicy for Ceylon, and sour for Assam. Ceylon and Assam, once released, gave her an obligatory greeting before turning to the food.

"I'm meeting up with Wally later on," she said as the three of them stuffed themselves. "Who wants to come with?"

Chamomile raised her hand – but she was supposed to come with her, anyways, so her volunteering was kind of moot – and Assam paused his vacuuming of food to raise his head and cough. Or maybe he was choking.

Ceylon just kept gobbling down food. Her dear starter was so trustworthy sometimes, in her consistency.

"Thank you, Chammy and 'Sammy," she said pointedly, filling the water bowl. "I'll go get ready, so let's leave in fifteen, is that good?"

Two sounds of agreement answered her. Ceylon still continued to eat, and May sighed, eyeing her Torchic. She was going through a growth spurt, and May guessed that she'd evolve into a Combusken soon.

On one hand, the evolution was coming at a time when it was needed. On the other hand, she was going to lose her cute Torchic in exchange for a militant, fighting bird.

She was finally starting to understand why her mom always spoke of May's childhood days with such wistfulness.

Contemplating the idea of purchasing an Everstone, May went upstairs to grab some things before she headed off for her routine meeting with Wally. Change was scary, but at least this was something on schedule.

* * *

The humidity of Hoenn's heated air was the same as usual. In other words, it was as heavy as a wet comforter flung onto her, and walking through it felt like she was walking through a hot tub that covered her completely.

By the time May arrived at her destination her clothes felt uncomfortably damp and plastered to her sticky skin. The cool, conditioned air of the Petalburg Gym felt utterly divine, like a gift from the gods she actually wanted.

After waving a hello to Joanne at the reception desk, she speed-walked to the lobby where a familiar head of light green hair stood out against the wooden walls and beige furniture.

"Wally!"

The younger boy turned his head, and once he saw her, he scrambled to get up.

Fine with her. It wasn't like they were going to hang out in the waiting area of the Petalburg Gym. "Sorry, were you waiting long?"

"N-no, not at all, I just got here," Wally greeted her with a nervous smile and a slight stutter. "Happy birthday," he said quickly, like he had been going over the words in his head a hundred times, and was tripping over his own tongue to repeat them to her out loud. He offered her the gift bag that sat next to him, a pale mint green paper bag with white lace patterns on the edges.

May blinked in surprise, and Wally took that as his cue to explain.

"Sorry it's late. I remembered you took me to that tea shop a few months back and said you really liked their custom blends so I got a few. I hope you like it?" It ended as a squeaky question.

May stared at the bag, then at the sweetheart of the green-haired boy offering it to her. "I'm going to hug you now," she declared, sweatiness of her general being be damned.

"Huh?" It ended as a squeak.

She reached over, arms open, and wrapped them around the younger boy. She wasn't the type of person who liked to physically show her affection in public – and this was public enough to qualify under her definition – but Wally was a special exception.

May met Wally six months ago, when his family moved from Rustboro to Petalburg. Norman was friends with his parents, family friends that parted when they grew up and moved to different places across Hoenn, and in the case of May's family, across the world to Johto, but they kept in touch, and met up again after moving into the city where he was now Gym Leader of.

The family had moved, partly because Wally's father had gotten a promotion and a raise, but primarily for the sake of Wally's health. From what May had picked up, Wally had poor health, with his respiratory system being weaker than the average person's.

Between his poor health and his shy personality, Wally didn't make friends easily, and struggled in his new home. His parents, worried for their son, asked Norman for help, and Norman threw his daughter at the job to fix the problem.

Her father was lucky she liked Wally. If he turned out to be an annoying brat, she would have never forgiven him for saddling her with an idiot, old family friend status be damned.

Luckily for all parties involved, Wally was shy, but a sweet boy, who was a year younger than her but mature and smart enough to match and even surpass her at every level, save physical. Even his precocious brains didn't keep her from doting on him, because there was just something about Wally that made her want to spoil him rotten.

Maybe it was his green hair. Maybe it was because he was younger than her, but smart and serious. Maybe it was because he loved Pokémon, because he really did, but whatever it was that made Wally super-effective to May, he was there to stay. He served as her provider of periodic cuteness, and she was his fellow Pokémon lover. Though they couldn't go hiking or on trips or even battle each other, they could talk about the subject of Pokémon for hours.

And they did. Whenever they got together and spent time with each other, May and Wally talked about Pokémon, with Wally talking about the latest thing he learned or read about, and May responding appropriately, to the best of her abilities. He actually managed to teach her a few things every now and then. A true PokéManiac in the making, he was. Less the babysitting mission she initially expected it to be, and more a making of a friend.

Wally's family wasn't very big on the idea of Wally being a trainer. They were open to him having a Pokémon – which was why Wally was allowed to keep Boris – but to him being a full-fledged trainer?

Absolutely not.

Even if that was what Wally wanted, more than anything, his family was paranoid about his health to the point where they were willing to suffocate him with their paranoia.

May still felt bad about the time she told him that she would be leaving on her journey this summer, after her final exams were over – seeing the crushed look on his face before he struggled to cover it up and congratulate her. She had almost called off going on a journey across Hoenn then and there.

But it wasn't just for her, going on a journey to get all the badges, and so, May hadn't, telling herself that life wasn't fair and some things were beyond anyone's control so she needed to suck it up. Offering to take him along would also be beyond her control and influence, and thus she didn't bother dangling hope in front of him, because she knew it would be snatched away from him by his parents.

It was past both their authority. May tried to make it up to him in different ways, like spending more time with him and stuff. He insisted that was all he really wanted from her, which was nice, but at the same time did nothing to mollify her guilt.

Her daily dose of sweetness filled by that one hug, she let him go.

"How's Boris doing?" she asked as they left the building and released their Ralts into the outdoors field behind the Petalburg Gym, where residents of the city could come and spend time with their Pokémon. For training or for the sake of goofing off with each other.

She didn't really have much of an interest in other people's Pokémon, but Boris the Ralts was special. She and Wally – and Chamomile – spent three days combing the area around Petalburg looking for a Ralts. Wally had insisted that he was fine, but she had seen the shine in his eyes when she shared her story of how she caught Chamomile, and knew he wanted something like that, more than anything. Ralts could be bought from a breeder, but they were expensive, and she also wanted to give Wally a 'trainer experience' of being able to catch a Pokémon.

Chamomile, amplifying Wally and May's emotions, had been aiming to draw in potential Ralts that were attracted to their owners. The Ralts that came, however, was one attracted not to the emotions she was channeling, but Chamomile herself. Wally managed to draw the interest away from Chamomile long enough for the Ralts to accept being caught by him, and had his first Pokémon.

Even so, the interest his Ralts had for hers never died down. Boris perked up upon catching sight of Chamomile, and hurried to her side.

Wally bit back a smile as Boris tripped in his attempt to impress Chamomile with his Teleporting.

"He's been practicing," he confided to May as his Ralts quickly climbed back to his feet. "I know it doesn't look like it right now, but he really was getting better. Last time, he Teleported six consecutive times without pause or fumble."

"Six, huh?" May said, thinking about Cham's current record. "That's . . . actually really impressive. Chamomile's pretty fast, but not so great at Teleporting multiple times in a row. I think her limit at consecutive Teleportation's still four."

That was probably Assam and Ceylon's influence, however. Whenever the Ralts tried to use Teleport, the two of them jumped the Psychic-type and held onto her, distracting her from concentrating and jumping through space. The two of them, physical fighters and more than willing to meet challenges head on in battle, wanted to teach Chamomile how to fight like them. As in, with full-out body tackles and reckless charges towards the opponents.

And Chamomile could never say no to those headstrong idiots who didn't fully understand the concept of a special attacker.

Thanks to their influence, Chamomile could take more hits, and dodge hits through reflex, not just Teleporting – for a Ralts, anyways. Their rough training had some benefits.

Some. Poor Chamomile, forced to babysit her immature teammates. And, in a way, Boris as well.

Both Ralts, being Psychic-types, raised their little green-haired heads in suspicion of their trainers thinking something less than flattering about them. May grinned and light-heartedly waved right back.

It probably didn't fool them – they _were_ Psychic-types, after all, and they knew their trainers too well – but they let it go, sweet children they were.

Boris tripped over his own feet for the third time and Wally laughed, though not unkindly. He did try to hold it back, but there was only so many attempts at trying to not embarrass one's own Pokémon before they did it on their own.

"I'm glad you're having fun," May said, kicking out her feet slightly. As long as one of them had some fun with this, she guessed the whole day wasn't wasted.

Wally flushed. "You're not?" he asked, and then hurried to elaborate. "I mean, um, is something wrong?"

Was something wrong? Well, for starters, she was about to make a decision she thought she would never have to worry about in her life. And it wasn't just a decision of what to do in the future, what career path to go down – not even what she thought would be her biggest worry in her lifetime, which was getting married.

The biggest challenge to that had been when she learned that her assumptions for the future – that she would just end up being one of those childhood sweetheart couples with Brendan and getting married to him and having one or two kids, something everyone in both families had assumed with her in the back of their minds before she and Brendan actually tried dating each other and found it weird – and even that ground-breaking revelation didn't compare to this.

No, this was an issue of 'the world is going to end and only you can put a stop to it'. Like this was some kind of ad for fighting forest fire through careful vigilance and not disrespecting the wilderness when training Pokémon outside.

How was she supposed to save the world? She had no powers. There were special people – like the gym leaders in Mossdeep City – who had those. She herself had no particular skill in a field relevant to saving worlds, or an education as in-depth enough to at least give her credit for it. She was technically a fledgling trainer, not a single badge to her name. Sure, she had three Pokémon, but none were evolved.

How? Why?

And not just 'why her' – though that was an important question as well. Why should she have to be the one to save the world?

Because if there was one thing she knew about the world and was worried about, it was that there was nothing 'free' in the world. Everything had a price. Her dad always told her to be careful of people who offered her things. When she took something that was offered, it meant she was willing to pay its price. Norman Gracie, as Gym Leader and automatically famous trainer of importance, was offered a lot of products and deals for advertising brand names. While Devon did give him a lot of things for his endorsement – and she got to enjoy some of the freebies when her dad passed them off to her for use – that was still a deal between the two parties, with expectations and promises to be fulfilled on both sides.

But not every price would be as mutually beneficial. If someone like her was going to save the world, what kind of price would be required?

And, though this might have been selfish, why should _she_ have to be the one to pay it?

"Just," May said, not wanting to make the younger boy think she was insane. "Just a little worried about the future and all. I guess exam times are making me stressed, and I wanted to whine about it a little."

Oh yeah, and the final exams coming up. She should probably start studying for that. Her habit of procrastination was terrible – and again, the question of 'what part of me would make a world-saving hero' came up. Because she was seriously considering using her exams – the exams she hadn't started studying for even though they were starting in a week because she procrastinated like a pro – as an excuse to turn down a god's request to help save the world.

Not hero material. Not at all.

'At least explain things properly before dropping a bomb on someone's mental health,' she grumbled to herself, and chalked it up as a prayer of complaint directed to a sky god. It better reach him.

"I see," Wally said quietly. "I'm sorry I can't be of help."

A part of May melted. Wally was always so sweet and cute, unlike other boys around his age. Or even boys younger than he was. Gods knew Brendan wasn't like that years ago, and though his brother Bryce was cute in his own way, there was just something so pure about Wally, like he was a fairy boy from old folk stories.

Someone too good for this world. The ones fairies took away and made one of their own, away from the influences of the real world.

Partially on a whim, May decided to ask him a question.

"Hey Wally," she said. "If, you know, in a hypothetical situation, the world was going to end, and you had to do something, but you don't know what that something is just yet, to stop the world from ending, would you?"

Wally blinked. "'Something'," he repeated her vague word of choice.

"Something," May repeated in confirmation, not really clarifying anything. "It could be anything – even dying. What do you do in that case?"

"And you don't know what it is," Wally paraphrased. "And you can't find out until you agree to it?"

May nodded.

Wally hesitated, but when she continued to look at him intensely, waiting for an answer to her kind-of literal prayers, had to give some kind of an answer.

* * *

After parting with Wally, she made the snap decision of heading to visit the temple of Latios and Latias, like she usually did when she wanted to clear her head. It was a place dedicated to a god, but at least it wasn't Rayquaza's, so it was probably safe for her.

The temple – capable of holding maybe three hundred people – was the one nearest to Littleroot Town, and the one most popular to the younger population in this area. A good thing for her, since its patron gods were the ones she liked to pray to the most.

She bought a stick of incense from the shop and stuck it in the ashes before lighting it with a match. The scent of something sweet and dried added with the additional source of scented smoke curling up towards the air like a prayer to those departed.

If only they could answer and give help.

"Hello, May," said a familiar voice from behind her. "What brings you here today?"

May turned around. "Hi, Brother Lorenzo," she greeted the young priest who was the reason why a lot of younger people in the area had suddenly found their inner faith again. His long white hair, handsome face and kind personality may or may not have had something to do with it. "Just a little stuck, I guess."

The young cleric raised a pale eyebrow. "Anything I can help with?"

With the sharp, spiced smell of incense still heavy in the air, May fidgeted. "Hypothetically," she said. "If, say, someone got a call."

Brother Lorenzo raised a finger to his lips. "Shall we take this somewhere private?" he asked, glancing off to the side.

May followed his gaze, and saw three women around her mother's age. Right, this was a public place.

He began to walk to his office in the side wings of the temple, where it was set up like a therapist's counselling room rather than a cold, hard confession room. May settled herself into the squishy worn red chair without asking. At this point, she'd already been in here too many times to deal with formalities.

"Tea?" he asked, lips half-quirked in a knowing smile as he began boiling water.

"Herbal please," she said sheepishly. Five months ago, shortly after Brother Lorenzo first came to this temple, she had been annoyed at his lack of knowledge about tea and ranted to him about it for a good five minutes before remembering that he was a priest and not Brendan. He took it in good nature, and instead asked her to recommend some good blends. After she was sure she wouldn't die of embarrassment if she ran into Brother Lorenzo, she bought him a beginner's tea set.

"Hm," he said, bringing out the loose tea from the cupboard and placing some in the strainer. "Stressed?"

May blew at the strands of her bangs sticking to her forehead. "A little, yeah."

While the old electric kettle was at work, Brother Lorenzo opened the cupboard again and pulled out a tin of biscuits with dried berries baked in them. "Would you like to talk about it?"

May fixed her gaze to the coffee table. Like most of the furniture in the office, it was worn, but well-cared for. Brother Lorenzo may have had a face like a movie star, but he was a model priest, which she supposed was a reason why he was comfortable to talk to. There were things you couldn't talk about with your parents, the same way there were some things you couldn't speak to your friends about.

And, well, Brother Lorenzo was a comfortable person to talk to when neither were an option. He was somewhere between 'local cleric' and 'cousin figure' for her.

"How do you become a hero?" she asked.

Brother Lorenzo, about to offer her the tin, paused. "Become a hero?"

The kettle was boiling. He set the tin down and reached to turn off the power, before pouring the hot water through the strainer.

"If someone needs your help," she said, not wanting to say it like she had to Wally. "For something really important, because otherwise really bad things happen, and they need you to be a hero for them, then should you do it?"

Even as she said it, May felt like this was a bad explanation. But she had no idea how else to phrase it. What details were okay to give out to other people?

Brother Lorenzo offered her a mug of hot tea. The soothing scent of herbs loosened the tightness in her shoulders.

"I think," he said, lifting a biscuit but not biting into it. "You're failing to think about what it is you want to do."

What did she want to do? May frowned and took a sip – or tried, anyways, before her tongue was burnt.

"Careful," Brother Lorenzo told her. "It's hot."

Making a pained face, she picked up a biscuit instead. "I don't know what the path of being a hero will be like," she said. "All the heroes you hear about, from the fictional ones like the Hoenn Rangers to the people like my dad or other Gym Leaders – hey, he's a hero," she added when she saw the young priest smile. "He is!"

"I'm not saying he's not," Brother Lorenzo defended himself. "I just find it cute how you love your dad so much."

"My point is," she ground out, "all the heroes require sacrifice. That's why they're heroes."

The tea was still hot, but she lifted it to her face anyways. If she couldn't even sip at it, then she'd sniff it at the very least.

"Yes," Brother Lorenzo said, smile slowly slipping off his face to be replaced with a melancholic look. "All heroes require sacrifice. That is why they are called heroes."

The tea was still burning, but her tongue was disciplined to scalding liquid. As soon as it had reached the threshold she could tolerate, she took a few sips.

At the slurping sounds she made, Brother Lorenzo lost the sad look to smile briefly.

May sighed as she set the tea back down. "I don't want to lose people I care about, or my Pokémon, or get hurt or die," she said, rattling off all the things she could think of that might be required as a sacrifice to save Hoenn.

"Understandable," Brother Lorenzo said. "So then, don't be a hero." His red eyes sharpened. "Unless, you want to?"

"I don't _want_ to be a hero," she protested. "I'm not interested in things like fame or running around the region dressed in weird costumes."

The priest took a slow drink. "But those aren't what being heroes are about," he said over the rim of the mug.

No, and that was the root of the question and problem. Because for all her fear of losing the people she cared about, or her Pokémon, or getting hurt or dying, there was still the part of May that was a ridiculous sucker that wanted to be a 'nice person', whatever the f*** that was. And she could not, for everything, be comfortable about the idea of Hoenn dying.

"I just don't know," she whined. The responsible part of her said she should be selfless and do something. The self-preservation-oriented part of her said she needed to look after herself first, not the countless strangers Hoenn was filled with. The self-preservation-oriented-but-also-a-sucker-for-everything part of her pointed out that if Hoenn died, so did everything that fell under her category of 'sacrifice'.

And yet she just wanted to hide under the blankets of her bed and pretend that nothing in the world mattered.

Brother Lorenzo looked at her with piercing red eyes, and she stopped her whining.

"Don't you?" he asked softly.

He wasn't glaring or snapping at her, or even nagging her, but the glance still made her heart ache a little.

She did know, really. She just wanted to complain, because it was going to be a hard road.

"May," Brother Lorenzo said. "If this person needs you to be a hero, and it's only you that can do it, that's fine. If you're the only one who can do this, then do it. But don't forget that you can ask for help. You have people who care about you.

"And," he added. "Your Pokémon always have your back, remember?"

May cracked a smile. "Thanks for listening, Brother Lorenzo," she said, and drained the cup. The tea was still hot, but no longer too scalding for her to be unable to discern the flavor. There was no bitterness in the water for her tongue to pick up – he was getting better at making tea.

Brother Lorenzo gave her a soft smile. "Good luck, Sister," he said.

She nodded and waved goodbye before she walked out of the temple and began running towards her home.


	4. 1-3 A Normal Girl

Part One: A Normal Girl

 _Chapter Three: Be With You_

 _The flute is played, the god is called, and the girl makes a choice._

* * *

Her father was still at work, and would be late coming back, because it was a Gym Battle day, and challengers were dying to test their mettle against the newly rising, 'toughest Gym Leader in Hoenn'. Her mom was over at the Birch House, talking with Brendan and Bryce's mother about . . . _something_. Brendan was probably being a good student and studying for the upcoming exams, and her Pokémon were sitting in front of her, wondering what their trainer was up to as she lifted the anchor-shaped flute to her lips with shaking hands.

May took in a deep breath, ready to blow air into the flute, but dropped it when it slipped out of her shaking fingers.

"Well, that's not anti-climatic at all," she mumbled. Damn it all, she was beginning to grow scared and having second thoughts.

Clenching the flute hard so she wouldn't drop it again, she lifted it up, planted it onto her lips, and blew with her eyes decidedly not set on the instrument.

Instead, she chose to focus it on the skies, where the blue of the day was beginning to give way to edges of a sweet pinkish gold and orange.

It was a beautiful late sky, she thought, as the flute let out a decidedly awkward and ugly sound, like the squawk of an off-tune recorder. Her Pokémon cringed at how her lack of musical talent carried over to even her attempt at playing a literally god-given gift.

The screeching sound shattered the peaceful quiet of the atmosphere, but that was it. There were no sudden changes in the sky. No clouds gathering dramatically, no parting of the heavens, no booming voice from the stars above answering the flute.

May lowered the flute sheepishly, having expected any of the above in response to the flute's loud squeak at the very least. A whistle for calling a god should have been a little more impressive, at least in her opinion.

Then, struck by an idea, she raised it to her lips again. Maybe because it had sounded too squeaky?

She tried playing it again, this time a little gentler. The result was a quieter squeak that still grated as harshly on the listener's ears as before. It was just less ear-piercing in volume.

So, no improvement from the previous attempt.

"How do you play this thing?" she grumbled, feeling her ears burn with embarrassment. Ceylon clacked her beaks in laughter. May glared, but was ignored.

To be fair, if anyone looked at her in anger after making a sound like that, May wouldn't have taken them seriously either, but this felt like a betrayal from her starter.

She sighed. "Maybe I should try again." Perhaps after looking up how to play a flute-ish instrument. And watching some tutorials, although no number of tutorials for idiots could salvage the negative musical talent her genes carried.

"Please don't," begged a voice from behind.

May felt distinctly proud of herself for not screaming, dropping the flute, or overreacting. She did spin around in alarm, but felt that was a justified reaction to the sudden voice.

Her Pokémon did not react so calmly. Ceylon squawked warningly, Chamomile screamed and hid behind her leg, and Assam's fur puffed out, standing on edge and making him seem even more bristlier than usual.

Rayquaza was there, eyeing the hand holding the flute with a serious amount of disbelief. He still looked like a pretty regular guy in capris and a thin windbreaker, nowhere near the image one might imagine when thinking of the word 'god' save for his eyes.

"Hi," she said, feeling a little stupid but deciding that greetings were in order. Nothing about her current situation was particularly normal, but she could pretend and try to keep it normal, right? Her Pokémon calmed a little when it was clear she knew him, but Ceylon still clacked her beak at him in warning, and Assam kept his beady eyes trained on Rayquaza intently.

"Good to see you again," Rayquaza said, raising his gaze and showing her that his eyes were still very creepily gold on black. "Your decision?"

Well, wasn't he straight to the point.

Unlike the answer she had in mind.

* * *

 _"I wouldn't do it."_

 _May blinked. For someone who had paused like he was steeling himself to make a difficult decision, Wally's answer was firm and unquestioning. He had no doubt or hesitation._

 _Wally blushed under her gaze. "I know it's selfish," he said quietly, explaining his rationale. "And I know that technically, that 'something' I have to do could be pretty insignificant, like, I don't know, never eating a type of food again."_

 _Insignificant? That? Depending on what type of food it was being banned, May thought that was a pretty significant price to pay, but she supposed that when compared to dying, it was kind of insignificant._

 _"But it's something as important as saving the world, and I know it won't be that easy a price to pay. I'm kind of selfish," Wally continued, fidgeting and averting his eyes from hers. "I – I want to live. And I don't think, um, that saving the world will be something I can do alone without serious consequences. So . . . ."_

 _Reflecting on it, maybe that was an inconsiderate question to ask Wally, who she knew had a weak body. His parents were always worried about his health and lifestyle, which was why Norman asked May to spend time with him._

 _Wally looked up then, and smiled nervously. "But, um, even if the world ended," he said. "I'm sure we can still all work together to survive, and make a new world. Like in the stories, when humans still managed to recover after the fight between Kyogre and Groudon nearly ruined the world."_

* * *

Her father had always taught her about the weight of responsibility, and upholding what she took on. Her mother had always told her to find her own happiness and live a life filled with it. Brendan said she was a lazy person, but she had talents, she just needed to use them properly instead of wasting them.

Rayquaza asked her to be a hero for Hoenn – against fellow gods even he could not fully control.

Wally reminded her of what would happen despite his answer, and yet gave her hope in case she failed.

And Brother Lorenzo told her to do what she could, in his gently firm way.

May took a deep breath.

"What is it that I need to do as a hero?" she asked, hoping her question didn't offend in any way possible. Depending on the story and the god's tale being told, some gods did not take well to sassy mortals questioning their authority, and handed out divine punishment like her math teacher handed out homework. Rayquaza, from her brief research into him, wasn't one who did so often, but that might have all been wrong since she hadn't seen anything about him taking the form of a human dude and going up to girls in their teens to ask them to be heroes.

Besides, it had been a long time. Who was to say gods didn't change?

Chamomile's hand on her leg tightened, but she couldn't react. She couldn't even pat her on her head reassuringly.

"Because," May continued on, trying to speak in an inoffensive manner that wouldn't trigger the 'kill the arrogant mortal' button. "I'm all for the idea of helping you save Hoenn. But I want to at least _know_ what I'm getting into. I'll give what I can, but I have limits, and I don't want to die. Or live as a vegetable for the rest of my life. Or lose limbs. Or my Pokémon. Or family. Or friends."

Back when she had asked Wally the 'hypothetical' question, first broken her silence to seek outside opinion, she had unconsciously been expecting to see something.

Maybe she had thought Wally would be the type to be like a saint, and selflessly sacrifice himself, like a martyr. And then she would have thought, 'I'm not someone as pure as him – I can't make a self-sacrificing decision like that' before giving up and deciding not to do it.

But when he said that he wouldn't, because he wanted to live, it reminded May that life was a fragile thing, and there were so many alive who deserved to live because doing so was wonderful. And could she avert her eyes to them losing it in a tragedy she could have done something about? Could she let someone like Wally get crushed by the storms and burned by the droughts?

No, no she couldn't.

And it was Wally's 'selfish' answer that drove May to decide – to not be selfish herself. Or maybe this was her brand of selfishness, to want to protect young boys from having to scramble to save themselves in a post-Apocalyptic world and grow up too fast for their own good.

Still, the early apprehension was there, and May had always been taught to know what she was consenting to before actually agreeing to anything.

"I want to know exactly what you want from me before I agree to anything," she said firmly, even as her heart thudded erratically with jittery nerves and extreme fear at what she was doing. "If any of those conditions aren't kept, then no deal."

Assam barked, high-pitched and whining in worry. May shushed him and the others lightly, but didn't look down at them.

Rayquaza looked at her with cool, unreadable eyes. "Understanding that if you do not take on the duty, everything you have listed may come true anyways?"

He didn't sound angry, and he wasn't outright glaring but May still swallowed – or tried to, anyways, with a dry throat. It was painful, like running sandpaper down the inside of her neck, and not a good idea, but at least the pain from the attempt made her snap out of her funk. At her side Chamomile trembled, picking up her nerves.

Scraping together every bit of self confidence that existed in her, May lifted her chin to make better eye contact with Rayquaza. "Then it's your job to explain things to me," she said. "If you want me to help you, you could at least tell me how my 'help' is supposed to happen. It's the least you owe me."

May knew that if he wanted consent from her, it was something she probably had some rights – she couldn't say for certain, but she was fairly sure – to refuse if she chose to. And while for the idea of saving Hoenn from impeding disaster and doom, she also knew better than to agree to anything she didn't fully understand.

"It would make sense for you to tell me just what's going on. You can't expect me to believe that some ignorant teen going around doing things is going to coincidentally save the world."

Was that too rude? Rayquaza didn't seem to mind.

"You have a fair point," he said. "I should have explained it better to you before making my request. Forgive me."

He inclined his head, and May internally panicked.

"No problem," she said, barely avoiding sounding like she was being strangled. "So, um, what exactly comes with the job?"

Rayquaza considered it briefly, golden eyes lazily swivelling towards the sky, where there were no traces of the clear sky-blue left. It wasn't yet the barely-lit darkness of twilight, but it was nearing that time.

"A thousand years ago," he said at last. "Kyogre and Groudon, driven mad from ancient wounds and injuries, were not on the best of terms. In normal circumstances, I might have been able to contain them on my own, but at the time they had accessed the power they possessed in the Age of Gods, when the Creator was still awake and among us, due to a meteor in the sky."

Almost immediately that was a lot of questions popping up in response, but May shut her mouth and made notes of what he said, even though red flags were on full alert. Gods driven mad, meteors, a power even a god like Rayquaza could not contain.

Not very good things for someone to deal with on her own.

Rayquaza continued on smoothly. "In their primal forms, the two of them overpowered me, and would have re-enacted the battle where they first shaped the world, but a hero sought my aid, and I his. When he reached out to me and opened his heart to me and to Hoenn, he unlocked a power from the Age of Gods and allowed me to ascend into a higher form."

Okay, hold it right there. "Opened his heart?" she said, thinking of graphic images of things like open heart surgery and live sacrifices. The ones involving splitting open someone's chest to rip out their beating, bloody hearts.

May felt a little green just thinking about it.

"Not literally," Rayquaza reassured her. "It's a magic involving a bond between a human and a Pokémon. By channeling the strength of the relationship through a prayer, the partners can achieve a transient but powerful transformation that brings out the ability to rival even the gods in the moment. This is in the case of mortals, of course. The hero gave me the strength to defeat and seal away Kyogre and Groudon."

That . . . actually sounded pretty cool. Unlikely for her, but pretty cool.

"But that seal is weakening." Rayquaza frowned. "It will break soon, and I do not wish to see Hoenn suffer again by the gods that once, in their sanity, swore to protect it."

He took a deep breath, and let it out in a weary exhale. "That is why I need your help."

This was it. May braced herself.

Rayquaza looked at her, and though he had no particular change in expression or voice, it felt like she was staring at a very large presence, like a great and powerful dragon. Her heartbeat picked up again, beating out the arrhythmic pace of terror.

"I need you," he said, "to learn the magic many have forgotten and connect me to Hoenn like the hero a thousand years ago did before the seal on Kyogre and Groudon breaks once more. If I can regain my powers before their seal is destroyed, I can keep them from awakening, and Hoenn has no need to suffer."

"How -" she paused to clear her throat. "Magic? How would I – you just said magic. _Magic_."

"Yes, magic," Rayquaza said, despite her stuttering. "At least, that was the term used a thousand years ago. I believe in modern times it can be called other things, such as powers."

May thought of people who had actual powers, people who were psychic and could see things like the future, or move things with their minds.

"I've got some bad news for you," she said, coming clean. "I don't have powers."

Rayquaza was not easily deterred. "That you know of."

"I don't have powers," May repeated. "I can't see things, or read minds, or move objects with telekinesis or anything." She hadn't been tested, but she had heard the stories about those who did, and they all showed some signs of it in their early ages.

She had not. Of that, she was certain. May was not the special one. She was just a normal girl.

The sky god scowled in irritation and May nearly flinched. "This Age is truly one where magic is dying out," he grumbled. "Magic is more than just psychic powers, May. Are there only Psychic-types in the world?"

"No . . .?" she answered, but it came out as a question.

"The modern mortals think of powers as something similar to what the Pokémon do. I refer to the magic exclusive to humans – what allowed them to survive among the stronger and more versatile Pokémon since their creation. You have the potential for magic inside you," Rayquaza insisted, golden eyes with clouds dead focused on her. "Great magic, of a potential beyond anything that should be natural in this Age of Machines."

It was probably meant as a compliment, but the whole concept of 'magic' didn't really reach out at her. May crumpled her brow and tried to remember her sixteen years of existence. "I think I might have known if I had powers," she pointed out.

"When you . . . _played_ . . . the flute," Rayquaza said, and the pause before and after the word 'played' made May feel hot in her face. "You made a sound. A loud one. The Eon Flute cannot be played by anyone who does not have the potential for powerful magic."

"Are you sure? It sounded really bad."

Rayquaza had no words to refute that. "You made a sound," was what he said instead. "All that's needed is for you to be taught how to access the dormant energy lying inside you. And I told you – your potential lies not in what you think of as powers, but as something more."

May blew her bangs off her forehead. Fine, if he was going to be insistent about it. "Alright, if you say so," she mumbled, estimating how difficult it would be to learn how to get in touch with the inner self she had never even been aware of till now. If the world was going to be ending in a year, then . . . "I was going to go on my journey to win badges for this year, but I guess I can put that off. Somehow."

Ceylon, who had been fairly well-behaved and quiet up to this point, reacted at this. Her Torchic squawked angrily, first swivelling her head to May, and then – much to May's horror – at Rayquaza himself.

She couldn't understand what the Torchic was screeching, but she was pretty confident that there were some obscenities being tossed around.

Rayquaza confirmed it indirectly. "I would really rather not," he told her loud starter.

"Ceylon," May called in mortification. She tried to pick up her Torchic, but the angry Fire-type pecked at May's hand and hopped out of reach. "Ow!"

The Torchic deliberately turned her head away from May. Chamomile went to put a hand on Ceylon's back, but even the Ralts looked down-spirited. They, like May, had really been looking forward to the journey.

"The badges are emblems you receive for proving you and your Pokémon's strengths in battles against designated trainers across Hoenn, is it not?" Rayquaza asked, eyes on her Pokémon.

She nodded. That was the purest form of what 'going on a journey for badges' meant. There were other things connected to it, but it was the basic essence.

"Then there is no need for you to put it off," Rayquaza said. "For humans to access and awaken the energy inside themselves, they must first forge bonds with their Pokémon partners, and grow strong together."

Ceylon perked up, and Chamomile lifted her green bangs like she wanted to better see Rayquaza speak.

"You mean . . .?"

"It would be ideal if you won your badges along with your education as a hero," Rayquaza summarized. "I would have taken you across Hoenn anyways, and this allows you to – I believe the term is – catch two Taillow with one stone."

"Oh." May blinked, suddenly a lot more relieved. She had been planning this journey for years now, even when she had been in Johto and the idea of returning to Hoenn was an uncertainty and a reluctant thought. Since before that time, actually. For something as important as that to not have to take a backseat set her at ease. "Okay. Great. Thanks."

Ceylon still gave Rayquaza the stink-eye, but she nodded before tottering off towards home. If she could have, she would have stomped. May tried to remember if there were any spicy Pokéblocks in the house, because it was going to take some serious bribery to get her forgiveness.

Chamomile glanced May's way, and she nodded to give her Ralts the okay. Her presence would let Ceylon blow off some steam. The psychic hurried after Ceylon to open the door for her.

Only Assam stayed, sticking close to May like he was ready to protect her should she need it. She gave him a soft smile.

"So?"

"Huh?" May looked up from her Zigzagoon.

Rayquaza looked at her patiently. "Will you be the hero Hoenn needs?"

Right, she still hadn't given him an answer yet. "I travel with you on my journey, and you teach me magic." May still wanted to cringe whenever she said the word 'magic' out loud, because it was a little embarrassing, but she kept going. "And then, before Kyogre and Groudon wake up, we stop them and keep the world from being destroyed. Is that it?"

The sky god nodded.

Her head cleared a little of the ache that had set in during the last few days. She could do that. "I'll do it."

"Excellent." He smiled faintly, and there was a great air of satisfaction resting on him now. "When you are ready to start your journey, pla – _blow_ the flute, and I will join you."

"Maybe it'll sound better next time?" she said, not even believing the words herself.

"Maybe," Rayquaza said, but only to be polite.

At least, May thought, judging from the interactions they'd had today. She had a bit of a guarantee that he wouldn't be a douchebag to travel with.

And then her thought processes suddenly outlined a major problem. "Hold on!"

Rayquaza, who had been turning away to leave, stopped. "What?"

May gestured to him. His adult self. Then to herself. Still a teen.

His face was blank. He wasn't getting it.

"People will say stuff if they see this combination on the road," she explained subtly.

"Ah," he made a sound as realization dawned in his eyes. Teenage girl travelling with an adult man she had no relation to. People liked to talk and worse, they liked to speculate.

"Yeah. And I don't want to do anything that links my dad to a scandal, even a fake one." He already had enough on his plate to deal with. "Is there anything you can do?"

May was thinking something along the lines of him being invisible to everyone except her.

Rayquaza, however, simply glowed a little – like a Pokémon evolving – and then shrank. So, more like devolving.

Assam chittered in surprise, but he stayed in front of May, not bolting as the light faded away. Where once a man in his twenties to thirties stood now was a young boy, around twelve maybe.

"Is this better?" he asked, and even his voice was still high, not yet affected by puberty.

May stared at the young boy with green hair and eyes that were too smart for his age.

"Yeah," she said at last. Her voice came out unshaking and unbroken. "That's better."

Rayquaza eyed her. "Are you sure?" he asked, sounding doubtful.

She cleared her throat. "Yup. This is much better. Some trainers go on journeys with their mentors or their friends or family. It's considered weird if you go with an adult, but less so if you're with a fellow minor. It's actually considered smart because, you know, safety in numbers and the road isn't always too kind. It'll be fine."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but May was done for the day. "My mom should be coming home pretty soon," she said, not letting him speak by spilling out a barrage of words. "I'll play the flute once exams are done and I'm ready to go. That should be in about two weeks, at most."

Rayquaza didn't press further. "Very well," he said, still the unbroken voice of a prepubescent boy. "I'll see you then, May."

She waved, returned Assam to his ball, and bolted into her house. Ceylon raised her head, ready to scold her, but stopped when she saw the look on May's face.


	5. Rayquaza

**Interlude: Rayquaza**

 _Distant Skies_

 _The lord of the skies has no chances left. He cannot afford to make a mistake. He has to get it right._

* * *

The temples were houses of gods, land set aside specifically for the purpose of worship, but sacralised ground had always been offered as a sanctuary for those who needed it, for what were gods for, but to protect those who sought guidance and aid?

In Rayquaza's case, both uses applied.

The houses devoted to gods came in all sizes, shapes and colors, and this one was a plain one, compared to all the rich, magnificent structures Rayquaza had seen in his time, with some even being partially or fully dedicated to him. Its walls were a dull red, and the insides were of a bland, faded color that came not with deliberation but from the passage of time.

Still, as temples went, it was a good one. It was old and worn but well-cared for, and he could feel the traces of the beliefs and prayers layering the air inside, soft and warm, kind and true with a melancholic aftertaste.

Latios, disguised as a mortal, gave a slight bow in his direction when he entered the building, but he did not come close to offer words of conversation.

Rayquaza nodded back to his vassal and fellow god of Hoenn, and then went to kneel on the hard floor – not for prayer directed to Latios and Latias, for there was little point in him doing that, but to think and clear his head without appearing suspicious in the environment he currently occupied.

He had little experience with mortals. Mortal lives would always affect the immortal, bringing the change that came with the circle of life to those that were by nature unable to change on their own, and gods would inevitably rely on the transient lives to be led to the rule of the world, but as an individual god, he could count on one hand the close relationships he had forged with mortals over his long life.

And, perhaps due to his callow personality, Rayquaza had seen those relationships ended on terrible terms more than on good. They had taught him love – of the love directed to family, to a student, and to a lover – but they had also taught him pain, and that pain led him down the path of failure.

The first Draconid. A warlord of a turbulent land split into warring states. The Lorekeeper.

He could not fail again, not this time. It was never just a sky god and a mortal hero, but this time, there was simply too much at stake for him to make a mistake.

* * *

No mortal can live in the skies. Those with wings who may defy the laws of gravity can find a place of rest within it, but eventually, all mortals must roost on the earth, and the heavens are reserved only for the divine.

As the guardian of such a domain, distant from the vital, passionate bursts of mortal beings, Rayquaza was the slowest of his trio to understand and empathize with the emotions of these short-lived yet powerful individuals.

Much like the skies, he was –

* * *

"Rayquaza!"

At the call of his name, he deigned to lower his body from the skies so that he was closer to ocean level. On the shore where salty water met sandy earth, Groudon waved from below, grinning widely. Kyogre, body half-emerged in her beloved ocean, nodded in greeting to him. The air was richer below here, filled with scents of all the things that did not exist far above where he resided, and the sights offered scenery with far more diversity than the background of darkness and pinpoints of stars.

"What is it, Groudon?" he asked. He hadn't had much to do before Groudon waved him down, but sometimes his counterpart of mountains and canyons liked to drag him and Kyogre into the oddest things.

The titan of the earth leaned in, their shared golden eyes twinkling with excitement. "I just wanted to know something," he said, voice innocent. _Too_ innocent. "See, ever since the day when you were too much of a coward to see which one of us would be the strongest-"

Kyogre rolled her eyes, but the ocean waves churned just a little harder. It may have been Groudon that had flagged him down, but whatever it was for, she too had a part in it. Groudon was just the more vocal one, as usual.

"I think," Rayquaza said, smirking, "you mean the day when I took on and defeated both of you in a free-for-all combat, yes?"

Kyogre bristled, and Groudon dropped all his pretense. "That was one battle!" The titan of earth's voice boomed, and small quakes shook up the tectonic plates. "And you've been too scared to face a rematch!"

"The first one doesn't count, Rayquaza," their ocean-based counterpart added, clearly agreeing with Groudon. The stubborn pride burning in her honey-shaded eyes made it clear that this was important to her as well.

Understandable, Rayquaza thought. Groudon was the first one knocked out in the first and only fight the three of them had entered, but Kyogre had put up a good fight, nearly knocking him out. Had victory been a little more fickle, it might be him pestering Kyogre for a rematch.

But that wasn't the case, and as the victor he had no reason to be merciful.

"Too bad," Rayquaza told them both, and started to turn back to the skies. He had no intention on being pulled into another one of Kyogre and Groudon's messy spars. Once, done out of ignorance, was one experience too many for him. When – _if_ – they ever grew more mature and found methods of entertainment not involving trying to kill each other in 'friendly' battles, he'd spend more time with them.

"Hey, hey, hey, hold up," Groudon stopped him before he could escape to his beloved heavens. "I wasn't going to ask for you to join in another battle."

Rayquaza was filled with the urge to return to his domain, but he – Creator damn his patience, as wide and as never-ending as the skies that were his to watch over – decided to give Groudon the benefit of the doubt. "Then?"

Kyogre came closer to the shore. "We were wondering which one would be stronger," she said, putting aside her desire for a rematch to settle her curiosity. "You, or Giratina."

All thought of his peaceful patrol of the skies left his mind, and with a growl he lunged towards the grinning duo.

For all his distance and aloof nature, they were the ones closest to him in those times. They were not 'siblings', like the gods born of the same origins and then given separate elements. The three of them were gods, spirit given form and sentience, but they were also so very different, made from things as different as the sky, the sea and the land were, tied only by the same things that brought their elements together and the sheer scales of their domains. The three of them only shared their close times of birth and their assigned purpose.

They could only be called 'counterparts' to him.

But, without a doubt, the two were special to him.

* * *

"Would that make you the strongest of the gods currently active?"

Eons of time later, in a different age far after the Age of Gods collapsed so suddenly, the hero he chose to stop his counterparts and once-friends asked him.

What had he said back then, before everything broke apart and slipped out of his grasp like dust and ashes?

He couldn't remember. It was too long ago, a literally different age.

"In Hoenn, yes," Rayquaza answered, and thought about how his counterparts may have reacted to his reply now. Groudon would have squawked in indignation and then denied ever having made such a sound, while Kyogre would stir up the seas in angry waves to indirectly let them know of her disapproval. He would have ignored the two of them, because losers didn't get a right to argue against the obvious conclusion.

Did it matter what their past selves would have thought, when it was all lost to madness? Rayquaza supposed not, but the loss hurt when he was reminded, and all that was left was faltering strength he could not fully access without the help of a human hero.

* * *

After Time and Space were settled, and Spirit released into existence, the Creator turned to create the world. He gave life to the ground, then to the seas, and finally, he took the skies that were the first line of defense to his new world and gave it a form and a name.

And so, Groudon, Kyogre and Rayquaza were born to the beginning of the Age of Gods, when the air was young and filled with the power of the Creator. When Groudon and Kyogre could do as they wished, shaping the physical world to their heart's desire, when he could fly in the layers of the atmospheres to his fullest desire.

Below, the Creator created more like them – more of the great ones with his arms in them, like there was an arm in his essence since his beginning. It was the time when the Creator personally shaped lives and gave names, placed one of his thousand arms into his best creations and made them gods, and so it would later be called and remembered as the Age of Gods.

The Creator gave a name to the falling stars that meant no harm, and called him Jirachi. He laughed gently when he saw the – mess, Rayquaza called it, though Groudon insisted it was a masterpiece – landmasses scattered haphazardly and shaped a giant called Regigigas to aid the titan of the earth in rearranging them, though for the life of him Rayquaza could not tell the difference after they were done. He breathed life into the tides that moved Kyogre's oceans, and into the rainbow arcing across Rayquaza's domain and named them Lugia and Ho-Oh.

And the Creator's strongest children did not sit idle. Mew and her mate went on to create mortals to occupy the world his counterparts had laid the foundations of. From the births and deaths of these lives, fragile compared to the gods yet holding a potential for greatness Rayquaza did not understand back then, rose Life and Death, Xerneas and Yveltal. Between Birth and Death was Existence and Order, and Zygarde came to be.

And so on, more and more gods came into being.

It was his childhood, watching more gods join Paradise. They were born fully grown, without need of a time when they were small and weak and immature, and yet their spirits were newly born and fresh to the world. Fully matured in body they might have been, but emotionally, they were all young. Young, powerful, full of joy and innocence. Born complete, but fragile.

They were, for lack of a better description, children. Children who could not imagine an end to the small, happy world around themselves, who believed themselves, those around them and their Creator to be invincible to all in the world.

It seemed, at the time to Rayquaza and other gods, that these peaceful times would go on forever. Mortals below his domain, the heavens, as he flew and patrolled the boundaries between the Creator's demesne and that of the Abyss beyond, where Corruption of all things orderly remained lurking, eager to swallow anything given the chance.

Sometimes, a breach would come to be, and the warriors of the Creator would be sent to protect the world. The Golden General, the first of the Creator's children, would always take the lead, her glorious six wings spread wide for all with eyes to witness the beauty she had been born and blessed with. Sometimes, when he wasn't busy with his own business, Rayquaza would join, as the second most powerful of the Creator's children.

There was no great loss that came to Rayquaza, no change in heart that would turn his world upside down. The Abyss and Corruption seemed so far away, and not a true threat to his status quo.

Until the day of Pandemonium, when his reality shattered and everything changed.

* * *

The tree-shaped invader gave one last burst of crackling lightning in defiance of the death promised to it. The smell of ozone, familiar from his home territory, filled his nostrils. Though the bolt hurt, leaving behind a searing heat that took a moment to be noticed after impact, his scales were strong enough to withstand its efforts and leave him mostly untouched.

Rayquaza tore the wiry, lanky body cleanly into two. That was the last of the demons that had crawled in this time. He shook off the blood, dark as the Abyss the invaders had crawled out of and unpleasantly viscous. The winds, serving as an invisible pair of hands, helped clean him.

"Well done."

He glanced up to see Giratina, in all her golden glory. She was as beautiful as she was powerful, majestic in all her confident strength and liquid grace.

"Thank you," he said, grinning widely. The Golden General was not one to easily give her praise, and rightfully so, for she was the best warrior in this world who had the honor of serving the Creator at his side. A compliment from her was a valuable commodity, indeed.

"So watch out." He acknowledged her strength, and yet it was his pride in his own power that made him continue speaking. "One day, I might take that title of the Creator's Champion from you."

The first of the Creator's children seemed amused at his declaration. "Bold words from someone I witnessed defeated by a warrior maybe one-tenths his size," she said playfully, tipping her helmed head towards him. "A certain mate of Mew's . . . what was his name again?"

Rayquaza made a face. "He caught me off-guard," he protested. It was not an excuse. The warrior, made to protect his mate as she gave birth to more mortal lives on the earth, had used his smaller size to his advantage. There would be no second victory for him, now that Rayquaza knew his tricks.

Giratina's red eyes twinkled with amusement., like the most precious of gems "You tell yourself that," she said, turning away. Her wings, edged with golden bones that shone through the patagium's translucent stretch of auroras given physical form, and the Golden General launched herself into the air.

He scoffed, even as a smile stretched his mouth wide. One day, he would defeat her.

* * *

The day of Pandemonium started as a day like any other, and so he spent it like he did any other, drifting in the skies, feeling the winds around his body.

There was no warning. The peace shattered, and time fell erratically. Space distorted, and with it cracks began opening up around the world.

Rayquaza saw his domain begin to splinter, and between the cracks peeked in the Abyss. Corruption was spilling in through the cracks.

No, not cracks. There were wormholes opening up, tunnels connecting the Abyss to the Creator's world so that an ocean of Corruption would come spilling past the defenses like a massive tidal wave breaking past a mound of sand. All those attacks that had come before – those could not be called true invasions. Past battles had only been skirmishes.

This was the beginning of a war, and the armies of the enemy marched directly into their home.

His heart demanded that he stay and fight those that dared place their filthy existence in his domain. Howled for their blood, to remove their heads from their bodies. To protect his domain, to fight.

His head, watching all the Irregularities and the Corruption, ordered that he find the other gods. Find his counterparts.

He chose both.

Rayquaza threw his head back and screamed like the wind, and the skies responded by hurtling down meteors, black veined with green and gold, thousands of assorted sizes of his power and authority answering his call to defend the first line of defense. The falling projectiles crushed many heads of those beginning to exit the wormholes into his home, and the storm had only just begun.

His welcome for the invading demons prepared, he turned and flew, strands of wind guiding his path, tugging him to the ocean and the land. Below him, the laws of reality were broken and the mortal realm was thrown into chaos. Areas of the Creator's world fractured away as the laws of reality were rejected and corrupted, becoming irregularly compartmentalized, and in the cracks created by distorted space time ran differently. Time fast-forwarded, with decades or centuries or even millennia passing in the blink of an outsider's eye. The mortals within did not realize the discrepancy, and they died without becoming aware.

Or perhaps they did, and he could not discern it when everything happened too fast inside these rifts.

Rayquaza could not help them. This was not his domain.

He did what he could, cutting down the enemy agents that were in his path, but his course remained the same, and he did not stop long. He continued on, avoiding fault lines in the dimensions and time of reality, until he reached a semi-stable location where his counterparts rested against each other, both in poor shape.

Kyogre's tail was shredded and one of her fins hung limp at an unnatural angle. Groudon's legs were bent, and his tough skin had been pierced several times, and blood – though cauterized by hot magma – stained his body.

Rayquaza snarled at the condition both were in even as his mind raced. They were not healers, any of them, and their only method of recovery would come from rest and allowing the natural energy of their domain to wash away at the wounds with time. Time, which was a precious commodity that could not be spared.

"We're fine, Rayquaza," Kyogre tried to reassure him, voice hoarse. "We're just taking a breather."

"We're fine," Groudon repeated tightly. Hot tears of magma ran down his face and dripped between his feet, where they sizzled against the damp brine that dripped down Kyogre, mixed with her own blood. "But she's – Rayquaza, she's already killed gods."

His heart dropped like a stone. Death was not something that came naturally to them. "Who?"

"Giratina," Groudon spat the name out like it was a curse, and Rayquaza felt the blood still inside him as if frozen. He would have accused Groudon of lying, of trying to play a bad joke if the situation was not so dire.

So he gritted his teeth and steeled himself. "Who has been killed so far?"

Kyogre shut her eyes. "The Fairy Child. The Queen of Insects. I saw her on the bodies of more but I couldn't make them out. Mew's mate was fighting her the last time I checked – to earn time for Mew to flee."

Their names could not be said – they were truly gone, then.

"What of her siblings?" Dialga and Palkia did not enjoy fighting, but they drew their powers from mighty origins, and were born from the same branch as Giratina. Surely they could . . .

Groudon snarled. "She attacked them first. Tore out their hearts – that's why Time and Space is so unstable right now."

Tearing out their hearts wouldn't be enough to kill them. They were too powerful, too essentially tied to the foundations of not just the world like he and his counterparts, but the fabric of reality itself. They would be severely hurt, but they would eventually recover from such a wound.

But other gods weren't. The birth of mortal lives was important – he supposed – and protecting the Mother a noble cause, but for all his honor Mew's mate stood no chance when facing the turned-traitorous Giratina. He stretched out his winds to locate them, and hurried to put a stop to the fight before she could slay yet another god.

By the time Rayquaza had reached their battle, however, it was too late. The smaller warrior fell limp, body broken, and the wings that had impaled him tossed the lifeless god aside as if he was nothing but garbage.

Giratina, covered in the lifeblood of other gods she had felled, turned to face him with red eyes that held no recognition, just bloody madness.

His heart nearly stopped at the sight, but his battle senses did not. The power of the skies above answered his beckoning and the winds picked up, howling and circling the Golden General, pinning them down with invisible force to impede her wings, now tattered. Two were broken, and the gold that was supposed to be eternally glorious was tarnishing before his eyes from the blood of the slain gods and a poison from another world. The spectrum of colors, an aurora rippling across the stretch of the wing, was fading, an invisible gel-like substance covering them and seemingly eating away at the vibrant beauty.

And from her blank, insane eyes she wept tears of viscous black blood, as dark as the Abyss.

Giratina was not dead, not like the gods she had slayed. But she might as well have been, for she was gone.

"This was not how I wanted to take your position as the strongest of the Creator's children," he said tightly, even as he knew his words would not reach her. This would be a battle to the death, he felt. Perhaps not of one of their lives put to an end, but of something precious that could never, ever be brought back.

Their halcyon days were over, and it was time to make hard decisions.

Giratina roared, and he replied with a shrieking howl filled with tears and regret and fury and desperation.

That day, under a cracking sky as demons crawled into their world through forced openings, Rayquaza was the last to face the Golden General in the battlefield of Pandemonium, and though he kept her engaged until the Creator rained his Judgement down upon the world and brought an end to the Age of Gods, he did not feel victorious.

* * *

"Are you lonely, Rayquaza?"

He looked up towards the Creator's kindly countenance. "No, milord," he replied. And he was not. He was never an outgoing or social god, and his interactions, though on the lower side compared to some of the other gods, did exist. He had his counterparts. He spoke on occasion with Giratina and her siblings, though his interactions were mostly with the Golden General when they faced the alien enemy. Sometimes, he sparred with other gods for a change in pace or a challenge.

And, of course, there was the Creator, there for all of them when they needed him. It was enough for Rayquaza, this and the skies he guarded.

The Creator clearly did not think the same. The corners of his lips turned slightly downward – not in disapproval, but rather in sorrow.

"I am sorry," he apologized, reaching out with one of his many arms. They were spiritual, and did not manifest visibly or physically until the Creator desired for them to, and the tactile sensation of the touch on his head, warm and comforting as spring breaking winter's brumal hold over the world, brought Rayquaza a feeling of contentment and repose. "I fear, sometimes, that I have placed too heavy a burden on those that bear my arms."

"There is no need, milord," he replied honestly. "It is an honour to guard the skies. They are too important a position to not be watched over."

The warm green gaze of the Creator did not lose their melancholic touch, however.

Rayquaza only understood the true burden of loneliness long after that moment had passed.

* * *

Shortly after Pandemonium was settled and a new reality stabilized, the Creator left, bidding the remaining gods to become the pillars to this world while he slept. He did not create new gods himself, but he did reach out to a pair of creatures from the other world. Small and fragile and peace-loving, they were the only residents from the bloody, catastrophic realm beyond their own world that hadn't been hostile. Instead, they had tried to help and warn the inhabitants of this one, at the risk of their own pathetic lives from both sides.

"No longer will you have to suffer in the dark," the Creator gently promised the newest residents as he bestowed an arm unto each. "For you will be a source of light, something for others to look to in their darkest moments."

Rayquaza watched as the pair of insignificantly small clouds of dust and fogs became star-clouds, and then stars themselves with a universe unto them, and finally into a beast capable of devouring sunlight, and a spectre of moonlight and wandering spirits.

Did they know the honor they had been granted? The first foreign souls to be given the Creator's arms, did they understand their significance?

He held his tongue. It was not his place to question it.

"Solgaleo and Lunala," the Creator murmured, bestowing upon them a name. "And all my other children."

The Creator did not give them specific orders. He did not tell them exactly how they should think, how they should act. Even after Giratina, the Creator didn't seek to tighten his control over them, granting them their free will in how they carried out their life's purpose.

"Watch over the mortals," was his only order. "Act as the stewards to my creation. Follow your hearts, and one day, when the times appear darkest, in the mortals my powers will shine once more."

The Creator shed his arms, then – the arm each one of them held in their hearts and souls, that provided them with the means to become something more, something divine – and let them fall. Some disappeared through the cracks in time and space not yet fully mended, but the Creator did not call them back. Nor did he call back his arms when they fell upon the world where new mortal lives were beginning to raise their heads to the skies, exploring the boundaries of the heavens with their eyes.

The fabric of reality rippled, like the surface of a lake as something new fell in.

"Experience life, and spirit for yourselves, my children," he whispered last, and closed his eyes to fall into slumber.

And so, too, did the Age of Gods fall.

* * *

Free will was not promised just to mortals. Though they knew the laws of the world and order better than mortals and were restrained in their movements by unseen shackles, the gods, too, had free will.

And so long as they were willing to pay the consequences of their actions, they could exercise it as they saw fit.

Dialga and Palkia, healed of the wounds inflicted upon them by their own sister and residing in the area where the Creator fell into slumber, could not bear mortal creatures bickering over the remnants of the Creator's power and tarnishing them with their greed. Dialga called upon mortals with divine blood in their veins, to cleanse the land of pretentious kings under her name. Palkia gave his support, and gods and demigod mortals united the divided land, robbing evil 'gods' of their power and subjugating the lesser gods that did no harm to bring order.

Ho-Oh and Lugia, in their shared land, did something similar. Systematically, they wiped out any mortals that had the nerve to claim themselves as gods. They made exceptions with three spirits of winds, to serve as their hands and feet and eyes, and to watch over the changing seasons, but otherwise methodically cleared out any that dared to wield the Creator's arm. Celebi did not join them, but she also made no efforts to stop them, simply watching from the stream of time.

Though Zygarde was content to watch, and Xerneas always open to new lives of whatever state entering the world, Yveltal, incarnation of death and destruction, could not stand the hubris of those that believed themselves above mortality for having perchance come upon an arm of the Creator, and punished them himself by reaping their lives and powers.

They were proactive, fully intending to bear the burden of the consequences that came.

Rayquaza, unlike them, did no such thing. He let things play out as they would, giving mortals the free will the Creator had once bestowed upon him. He saw no reason to interfere, or to retrieve the Creator's arms once more. The Creator had let them scatter onto the earth with a purpose, and it was not in Rayquaza's nature to actively seek out change.

Rayquaza did not interfere – with the arms, or with the mortals. He watched over from the high heavens, his domain where even birds with the greatest of wingspans could not easily reach, and as the guardian of the world's first line of defense protected them from danger beyond sight and imagination. When the world was threatened by the old enemy that lay beyond mortal awareness, Rayquaza would do his duty and protect them without needing their acknowledgement or gratitude.

He had little interest about what happened below. The struggles of the divine lives from the same era as he – perhaps he would give them attention. The lives of mortals, who were insignificant in power and died too soon were not his concern or a part of his demesne, and so Rayquaza remained a step removed from their lives, devoted to his responsibility and nothing else.

With the issue of the Creator's arms, he let them be. The new gods that were born learned to behave accordingly under the watchful eyes of Kyogre and Groudon, and he himself only stepped in once, when a pair of fledgling gods came to be.

Then, as if pushed by the invisible hands of fate, those same fledgling gods led him to the first mortal he cared about.

* * *

Rayquaza looked down at the small babe, cheeks round and chubby. The little one laughed and tried to grab at the hair of the human form he had taken, long strands of smaragdine brightness.

He had green eyes, Rayquaza noted, even as locks of his hair were snatched up and tugged. Green like the emerald scales of his dragon form.

Latias hurried to his side and took the child up in her arms, gently prying the small fingers away.

"Forgive him, milord," she said. "He is young and knows not of what he does."

Latios did not speak, but he bowed his head in agreement with his counterpart's words.

"It's fine," he told his vassals, running a finger down the golden fuzz that lined the top of the babe's head. "There is something special about him."

Latias brightened. "There is," she agreed, smiling dotingly upon the child. Her shape was set, her power and spirit stabilized. The same applied to Latios.

"So you have chosen what to tie yourselves down to, both of you," Rayquaza noted. Far they had come from the wild, scared spirits with power beyond their understanding. They had something to uphold and protect now. Though the Creator had not shaped them himself, had not given and called them by name, his work was being continued on in the stewards that were born and grown from his arms.

Their kind king of the world would have been proud in these two, Rayquaza thought.

"We saw him," Latias said, love in all her words. "And right away we just knew that this was meant to be."

Guardians of children, protectors of the young and innocent, messengers of the wind. Rayquaza thought it a calling noble enough to bind one's immortal existence to, and turned his attention back to the child that had influenced two young gods so. The little babe still burbled and smiled in the arms of Latias, naught a worry in his small head.

Driven by an urge rather unlike him – an urge similar to the one that had made him come down from his domain in the skies to take up and teach Latios and Latias on becoming true gods worthy of the power they had stumbled upon – Rayquaza reached out and placed a gentle finger upon the child's brow.

"Milord?" Latios spoke up, curious as to what the usually passive sky god was doing.

He gave no verbal response, but the blessing passed from him to the child. When he removed his finger, his mark glowed in green between his brows.

Latios smiled, and Latias beamed radiantly at the honour the child had received.

"Would you like to hold him, milord?" she asked, and without waiting for his reply all but shoved the child into his arms. Stunned and bemused Rayquaza allowed her to manipulate his arms around the human baby, and by the time his wits had recovered the child was gurgling with joyful laughter in his arms and tugging at his hair again, resting solidly in his hold.

"We call him 'Em'," Latios said softly, but the baby reacted, turning his small head in the young god's direction. "For 'Emir'."

This distance from the region he oversaw was something he was content with. But small exceptions like this, Rayquaza thought, clumsily playing with the child, was not too bad in his otherwise regular life.

And so, as the baby grew into a child and then into a young man, Rayquaza found himself enjoying the sentiment of peace and contentment for the first time in his life since Pandemonium.

* * *

But inaction, too, was a choice and an action, and even doing nothing came with consequences.

Such a simple fact, but one Rayquaza realized too late as the peace he found once more was shattered before he could protect it.

* * *

Dialga and Palkia grew too attached to the mortals, and nearly brought upon the united land they had brought together destruction. Giratina, released from her sentence, was forced to put a stop to her rampaging siblings in a grotesque mirror of the events of Pandemonium for the sake of the lands and mortals she held no affection for.

Ho-Oh and Lugia, too focused on watching over the arms of the Creator, were betrayed and abandoned by the mortals that lived on their land, who had no respect for the aloof guardians of their realm. Though they had paid less attention to the mortals, they were tied to the lands, and the two great winged gods found themselves banished from their homes, disavowed. As an alternative, Ho-Oh created three more gods from the arms he had gathered to watch over his lands in his stead, he could not again roost in his home, not until the curse was broken.

Xerneas and Yveltal were seized by a human who sought to destroy the balance. Though they escaped, the event forever changed the world, and left both severely drained and hurt. Much like their Creator, the two fell into slumber, and Zygarde watched over them with her thousand eyes, but nothing else.

As for Rayquaza, he saw the land he had always tried to protect, even from a distance, begin tearing itself apart. The titans that were his duty as much as the land turned against each other, driven mad from ancient wounds exacerbated by modern conflict and the coming of a benign foreigner, and he was forced to seal them away in that unstable state.

* * *

His region was tearing itself apart. His counterparts were locked in battle – not a battle for entertainment and creation, but for the death of the other and the destruction of the world. They did not weep the black blood Giratina had in Pandemonium, but the poison that had driven her mad had remained in them, intoxicating and gnawing away at their sanity without him realizing until it had all come crashing down.

It was always too late for regrets, for Rayquaza. But he would act late rather than never, if it meant he could avoid the worst.

Soon, his hero would call. Until then he watched, feeling helpless despite the powers he commanded. What use were they when he could not protect the few he considered close to him? Distant and careful by nature he may have been, but that did not make him heartless or uncaring.

"Quite the sight," said a soft voice. One might almost mistake those as words of concern.

Rayquaza turned, gritting his teeth. "Jirachi."

The small god, born when the Creator picked up a fallen comet and imbued one of his arms and wishes into it, was one from the later days of the Age of Gods. For all his whimsical personality, he was a fellow ancient who had witnessed the bygone halcyon days, and held the potential for great power in him.

And yet he had not shown a single hair while the world fell to pieces.

"Where-" Rayquaza began, but Jirachi shushed him with a slender finger raised to his lips.

"Not now, Lord of Dragons," he murmured musically, eyes loosened with wonder as he gazed beyond Rayquaza at the battle of the titans. "The hero calls with a wish."

He glowered at Jirachi, but felt the prayer, as well. And so, he flew with the winds at his side towards Emir, ripping apart the canopy of rainclouds and artificial sunlight to reach his hero.

Emir, with his Key Stone held close to his heart, began to pray. The mark of the blessing Rayquaza had given him back when he had been but a babe glowed, the sigil's light a source of comfort in the darkness of the danger.

The mortal reached out and unlocked the power he had thought lost since the Age of Gods fell. Rayquaza, reborn into his greatest strength in this Age of Mortals and Magic, howled, and charged towards his counterparts.

Their eyes, as golden as his, were empty of reason and awareness. Only blind madness filled them.

That hurt Rayquaza more than any attack of theirs did, but he braved the blades of earth and the beams of arctic energy, and he defeated them, as he had always said he could.

It brought him no great pleasure to come out as the strongest of them all, weeping golden tears of blood.

* * *

"The hero gave me the strength to seal away Kyogre and Groudon."

Rayquaza had seen the most beautiful of all the Creator's children. He had lived for countless years since the beginning of the world's foundations, when the firmaments were first stretched out above so they could serve as the first line of defense against the Corruption beyond and placed under his stewardship. He had seen much, and the girl he had chosen was physically no extraordinary beauty.

Inside her, however, was another story.

Some of the Creator's arms had slipped into the cracks of Time and Space from Pandemonium. He and the other gods had witnessed what happened when mortals stumbled upon them.

But what happened when a mortal was born with an arm of the Creator within them, like one of the gods from the Age of Gods? What did the combination of the divine and the transient make?

The power of a god, and the potential of a mortal? A soul capable of achieving past the limitations of imagination? He had seen the young man and woman in Orre, the land where gods could not reside, and broken out of the curse thanks to their efforts. The glimpse he caught of them alone had been radiant in a way nothing in this dead era of Machines was.

It was not yet bright and active within May, but it was there, unmistakeably, a seed of spring's warmth and a promise of new beginnings just waiting to grow into something big, something powerful, and a part of Rayquaza wondered how he had not found her earlier with the coming vow of gentle but strong spring.

* * *

Rayquaza saw Jirachi when all was done, and he was left mourning.

"Your seal will hold for one thousand years," the god of falling stars and wishes announced before he could do something – attack, roar in fury, anything. It was a prophecy, not a guess, and Rayquaza stiffened. "One thousand years later, your seal will break, and the two titans of the ocean and sea will be freed."

His heart stopped. One thousand years. By then Emir, hurt but celebrating their success, would be long dead. Perhaps his people would be gone, wiped out as well. Who was to say that his land would be the same as it was now, a millennium later? In the future, he very well may have grown to hate the land he had tied himself to. One thousand years was a long time.

And yet, one thousand years was also too short a period of time. Too short for Rayquaza, who had lived since the days in the Age of the Gods. Who fought in the Pandemonium, when a second was an eternity in the span of a brief moment that took eons to pass, against the rebelling Giratina. Who watched as the Creator, after shedding his many arms, left to fall into a deep slumber.

Too short for Kyogre and Groudon, driven insane, to recover themselves. Too short for the madness to pass, especially when sealed by his power.

He was not a healer. His power was to watch over, to stop, and to cease. Not to heal, not to fix.

One thousand years was too short a time to undo the curse of madness.

"On that day," Jirachi foretold, words of doom dripping from his lips and embedding themselves in Rayquaza's heart, each like a sharp knife digging in painfully. "Kyogre and Groudon, still insane, will resume their fight with each other, and destroy everything between and around them. And you, by yourself, will not be strong enough to restore the peace. Unlike this time, you will fail in the future."

Success?

Kyogre's people, robbed of their home at sea, were forced to find new residence amongst Groudon's people, and their differences were beginning to create clashes and spawn hatred between the two. Emir, Em, though he had survived, would die soon, soul too fragile to reside in his broken body for long. The land was still wet with blood and tears of lives lost, and the seas churning from the absence of their queen's blessing.

If this was success, a pyrrhic victory where his friend was torn apart and the land filled with unrest, then what was failure?

Not strong enough.

Sealing away a Kyogre and Groudon, driven into their primal forms by their madness had robbed him of his power – and Rayquaza had drawn from the wellspring of creation's beginning, his full might from the days of the Age of Gods. The power he had set aside after Pandemonium, when he believed that there would be none strong enough to drive him to such desperate measures like the Renegade, only to be proven wrong by those he thought closest to him.

That part of him was now beyond his reach, holding Kyogre and Groudon in their prisons apart from each other. Even if they were to be freed, he would not be able to access that power again, not on his own.

Rayquaza despaired.

* * *

The former Golden General stood in front of him, a withered corpse of her past glorious self, and all Rayquaza could do was stand in front of May as if to protect her. The first of the Ghosts, the Queen of the Dead was not a good presence to be around, especially for his ghost-fearing hero.

No, truth be told, her phobia was not the only reason. The Renegade did not bring good news.

"You would be correct," Giratina said, her voice dry and dead of emotion. The only spot of color on her monochrome self was her red eyes, but even those bloody orbs had no life behind them. The first of the Creator's children was a stranger to him now, just as she had been since the day of Pandemonium when she tore out the hearts of her own siblings in madness. "I have no interest in Hoenn."

And yet, the shade of the mightiest warrior had still broken the barriers over his region. Giratina had a reason for having bothered to break through to infringe upon his territory.

Dread with tendrils like ice gripping his heart, Rayquaza feared hearing the Renegade's next words.

* * *

Jirachi smiled, eyes elegantly folding into half-moons as he lifted up the corners of his lips.

"Fear not, Lord of the Dragons and the Skies," the soothsayer's patron god whispered sweetly, giving hope after he brought despair like dawn breaking night's dark spell. "For one thousand years later will also be the promised time, when miracles are born anew in the flesh of mortals. When you open your eyes to a dark age, there will be a girl who may become as your hero and grant your deepest desire."

Rayquaza held onto those words, clutching them like they were his lifeline for the next centuries to come. Always fearing, always praying to the Creator, always watching. He held onto them even as a mortal sorcerer struck a deal with the Abyss and the Corruption, and cursed the gods to be banished from reality until the heroes of Orre rid the world of the shadows and allowed them back.

And when he awoke in Hoenn at last, returned – though significantly weakened – it was already near the time Jirachi had foreseen. He felt the power he had sacrificed, cut off him like it was a limb, fading. It was a fragile barrier barely able to hold back two primal sources, and it would break soon.

He set out on his search for the girl that would be his salvation. The world had changed during the time of his absence, and yet there were mortals that loyally believed in him, even in this day when Magic was dying, when Machines seemed to have replaced everything. Rayquaza found this world, new and foreign to him after centuries of being gone, a confusing one, and so he approached the Draconids. Emir's people and descendants whose blood carried the covenantal blessings he had given Em so long ago. The mortals that had asked him to be their patron, though they knew him to be the distant god he was.

They had been few in number even a thousand years ago, never the large population the Tierrans that followed Groudon or the Atlantians that worshipped Kyogre were, and that had not changed come present day, but they still lived, and they still worshipped the three dragon gods that had loved their progenitor. Still remembered the warnings Emir had left them, after hearing Jirachi's words from him.

Rayquaza reached out to them.

* * *

"Ransei must be united," Nobunaga said. As per the warlord's request, Rayquaza stood at his side, donned in black over his usual green to match Nobunaga's colours. "I know not of your lands, King of the Skies, but mine is a region too used to conflict over anything else. Only by demonstrating overwhelming force will I be able to bring true peace."

Rayquaza could not speak for Hoenn, though he was the region's strongest guardian god. He did not spend enough time amongst the people, and knew only what he had observed from his patrols over the skies. He thought the regions similar enough, with mortals claiming difference over _something_ Rayquaza, for all his years of existence, simply did not fully comprehend, and using it as justification to hurt each other and draw those around into further conflict, but he was no expert.

Nobunaga was not the idealistic monk with a gentle but firm heart that Emir had been. Nobunaga was a ruler, a warlord. Where Em avoided conflict, preferring to live as a hermit rather than be confrontational, the warrior looked at his land of diverse people with clashing ideals and saw the only viable solution to utilize force and bring all under his strict control.

But he had the same habit of taking all the burdens on his own shoulders without seeking recognition, and the inherent something that drew his gaze and held it tight, and Rayquaza, for his own dislike of winding up drawn into conflict –

"I will warn you in advance," Rayquaza told him. "That should the warlords of Aurora succeed in calling the Creator, I will stand no chance against him in battle."

It was not a refusal or a denial. A warning of the conditions that came with Rayquaza's help. An indirect, unsaid promise.

Nobunaga turned to look at Rayquaza with eyes like gleaming obsidian. The mortal was quite incredible, having succeeded in bonding with two unrelated gods, and powerful ones at that.

"But against others? Even other gods?" the warlord pressed, confidence curving the corners of his lips upwards.

Kyogre and Groudon were sealed away, and a thousand years had not yet passed. Giratina was a shade of her former self, unwilling to fight unless absolutely necessary. Xerneas and Yveltal were still recovering from the last great war they had been swept up in. Kyurem had quite literally lost parts of herself, and like Giratina, was reluctant to fight.

Though much of his own strength was held up locking his counterparts away, he was still the best fighter amongst the gods.

"I would likely win," Rayquaza said, the strongest by default. And the title was like ashes on his tongue.

Nobunaga smirked.

* * *

"Milord?" Latios blinked, red eyes hazy with confusion. They sharpened when reality sank in. "Milord!"

Severely drained from waking a fellow god, even one that was his vassal, Rayquaza slumped to the ground. He was tired. He had failed, he was heartbroken, and a part of him wanted to give up.

It hurt more because he couldn't. Duty and nature – his nature – held him too tightly to allow escape.

"Latias was not in Hoenn when she died," he said flatly. "When I recover, I'll find and bring her back."

Latios assessed his surroundings and winced at the atmosphere so bare and dry of power. "So much has changed," he murmured, wary of this new age in its unfamiliar prime, where he was a stranger and a relic of the past. "How long has it been since the Exile?"

Rayquaza thought about what the Draconids had told him. What _she_ had told him, before it all came falling down. "Nearly two hundred years."

"Only that?" Latios looked horrified. "But so much has changed."

The world, once an ancient forest thick with foliage, was now a desert. And it had only taken two centuries for this devastation to occur.

"It takes a long time to build up, but only moments to tear down," Rayquaza replied.

Latios, though newly revived, recovered quickly. "What can I do, milord?" he asked dutifully.

The Draconids did not hold the answer Rayquaza sought. And after his mistakes, he could not face them again.

He had to move on.

"Help me find the hero," he said. "One strong enough to not collapse when channeling the powers of a god."

He would not make the same mistakes twice. He could not afford to, not with Hoenn at stake.

* * *

The second time Rayquaza witnessed the death of an age was as sudden as the first. And unlike the time when the Age of Gods fell, he did not witness it in full, or have a chance to fight.

Past the skies that were the first line of defense, a path to a different world opened, and their home was robbed of life. Like a human who had been stabbed, the lifeblood of the Creator's house was draining out through the wound. Left untended, there could only be the death of their world, and the world's stewards were, at their heart and soul, based around the arms of the Creator. Beings of life could not live in a deserted, deceased realm. They would not.

To stop the destruction of the world and save what had been entrusted to them, the gods stepped up, and offered their lives knowing this was not yet over.

And so died the second age, the Age of Magic, along with most of the gods that populated the world.

* * *

"I'll do it," May said, a thousand years after he was forced to seal away Kyogre and Groudon himself.

Rayquaza was not the cheerful, stable god that Groudon was to his people, or the volatile yet giving one Kyogre had been. The people that he was patron to, the Draconids, were few and had not flourished as the Atlantians and Tierrans had for their god was aloof and remote from them.

He was distant, he was slow with emotions, he was –

'Awkward,' a hero had called him once. 'But not impossible. It just takes practice.'

Rayquaza had no time left for practice. May Gracie was the only hope left, for himself and for Hoenn.

This time, he could not make a mistake.


	6. 2-1 A Rocky Start

Part Two: A Rocky Start

 _Chapter One: Words Words Words_

 _May and Rayquaza begins their journey together._

* * *

It was an average early-summer day in Hoenn when May finally stepped out of her home, ready to travel around the region and win some badges. That is to say, it was hot, sunny and humid enough to hydrate her nostrils without any effort required, and had her drenched in what wasn't entirely her sweat in the span of ten minutes.

It felt like the humidity, heavy in the air, and the sweat were working together to remove the sunscreen from her skin and expose her to the skin cancer rays. Route 104 had some shade, but only under the trees lining the sides of the road. Sunglasses and cap aside, May considered taking a break, even if it hadn't been that long since setting off from Petalburg after the farewell party her dad hosted at the gym.

"I thought you said you would leave right after your exams were over," Rayquaza in child form said to her, and maybe it was his small size deceiving her but he almost sounded like he was whining. Subtly, but without a doubt acting in a manner that could only be categorized as 'whining'.

It was hard to believe this came _after_ his reassurance that they could speak without fear of being overheard because he was doing some magic thing, so May could ask any question she wanted without appearing as a lunatic to the people they shared the route with.

"I had to rest up and prepare for the journey," she pointed out. "Unless it's a smart idea for a hero to not be prepared?"

Rayquaza gave her a sideways glance, but May could hold her own against his gaze when his sclerae wasn't the unnatural black. Like this he was just a young boy. He was even sweating lightly and wiping at it with the back of his hand like any kid his age. Not at all sky-god like.

He was destroying all expectations she had regarding gods, that was for sure.

"Is it even alright for you to be travelling along with me?" May asked, partly because she was a little annoyed at his questioning of what she was and wasn't supposed to do. But now that she had asked it, it was a valid question. Sure, saving Hoenn was important, but didn't he have something better to be doing with his time? "I thought Kyogre and Groudon were on the verge of breaking out. Is it even okay for _the_ Rayquaza to not be doing anything? Or are the other gods handling it?"

Rayquaza sighed. "I've placed a barrier over Hoenn with Latios, and left him in charge while I'm with you. If there's anything he needs help with, he can contact me immediately. Also, don't call me that. It's just Ray when I'm like this."

May thought it was a little funny how he sounded like a busy mom who left her child with a babysitter when he looked like the kid left with the sitter himself, but something he said distracted her from easy laughter. "Latios?"

"Yes," he answered like he saw no problems with what he had said.

" _Just_ Latios?" May pressed, specifically.

Rayquaza seemed to see where she was getting at.

"Yes," he replied, after a slight pause.

"Are there no other gods in Hoenn?" she asked, finding it weird. Latios was almost never mentioned without his counterpart-slash-lover-slash-partner-slash-sister, depending on one's choice in story or preference, and Hoenn had a pretty rich diversity in myths. The majority were, admittedly, focused around Kyogre and Groudon because they were the major gods who always got themselves into drama in the stories, but there were others as well.

"Not at the moment," Rayquaza said slowly, stretching the words a little. "They still slumber."

May tripped, or nearly did. She regained her balance at the last moment, but the awkward stumbling was already done.

Her embarrassment wasn't the important thing, though.

"They're _sleeping_?" she asked incredulously. "What the hell?!"

Rayquaza frowned. "Language," he said – dare she say it – primly.

Like she couldn't – and didn't – say worse. And that wasn't the important thing right now, how dare he try to throw her off by changing the topic to her potty mouth.

" _Sleeping_ ," May repeated, snarling the word out like it owed her money. "When the world is about to end in a year's time."

She liked sleep as much as the next person but _come on_ , priorities! If someone like her was being pulled in, they could very well damn recruit people more suited to the job, like _actual gods_ , to save the world.

"Technically it wouldn't really be ending, just severely damaged and destroyed-"

Because that was totally the point she was making right now. Priorities, please?

"And a human girl has to clean up the mess. The gods are _sleeping_." May ground her teeth. It was a terrible habit that gave her an aching jaw all the time, but she had yet to find a way to break it. Stress did _nothing_ to help her get rid of it, either. "What the hell, Rayquaza?"

"Ray," he corrected her. "And it's not slumber in the way you're thinking of."

"Educate me then," May snapped. "Because sleeping through a sh-storm sounds like a pretty nice way to brush off what's about to come."

Rayquaza sighed and dropped a bombshell on her. "Two hundred years ago, most of the gods in this world, regardless of which region they had tied themselves down to, were killed."

Struck speechless, she stared at Rayquaza. Then, she reached over and poked him, very carefully, on his forehead. It felt fairly solid, but then again maybe this was all an illusion.

He frowned. "What?"

" _Most_ of the gods were killed?" she repeated his words slowly, wanting to hear a certain, very specific answer.

"Yes," he said.

This was where it became important, and possibly a dealbreaker.

"But not you?" she asked, crossing her fingers tightly and praying to the gods above. The sun shining brightly above and perpetually hot air of Hoenn be damned, she was feeling a chill crawl up her spine. It was the forewarning of a Very Bad Feeling, and she didn't really like those. They usually ended up screwing her over.

Unfortunately, Rayquaza was a god above if there ever was a god in the literal heavens above, and he didn't really seem to be good at answering her prayers.

At least, in the way she might have preferred.

"No. I was one of the gods killed."

May blinked as her mind registered the words, double-checked them to be sure, and then did the only thing she could. She screamed.

Rayquaza flinched at the sudden burst of loud noise.

"What was that for?!" he cried out when May stopped, and only because of the limitations her lungs had.

She was _not_ fainting from a lack of oxygen in front of a ghost. May scrambled back, trying to put distance between them. Her heart was in overdrive to the point where it almost hurt.

"You didn't tell me you were a ghost!" she shouted back. It would have been nice to know that part from the beginning because May was absolutely terrified of ghosts. Like, phobia-level, scream, cry and run away like a headless Torchic kind of terror.

Brendan liked to tease her about it, saying that she was _undoubtedly_ the daughter of a Normal-type Gym Leader, but screw jokes about types and specialties and advantages, if Rayquaza was a ghost, all deals were off the table. This was the kind of thing you told someone _before_ dragging them into a quest to save the world.

"A ghost – what." His jaw dropped. "I'm not a ghost!"

"You just said you died, yet you're here," May said, logic working flawlessly. "I think that _makes you a ghost_!"

Rayquaza glanced around to check that his eavesdropping prevention method was still working before he spoke.

"I'm a god," he ground out between clenched teeth. "We don't die like mortals do."

Oh, right, there was that. Her cheeks turned hot, but May still gave him a suspicious look through her embarrassment. "So, you're not a ghost because gods don't turn into ghosts when they die?"

He hesitated, and that was enough for May.

"No ghosts!"

* * *

It took Rayquaza a lot of time and effort to get close to her and explain that gods, when they died a physical, 'temporary' death – and she nearly called BS again at that except he looked so serious and earnest despite his youthful appearance that she decided to listen to what he had to say like the huge sucker she was – they could eventually gather their heart and soul back together from their domains and be reborn.

The gods becoming a ghost, he said, only applied in certain, special cases, and was incredibly rare. May made him promise that he was telling the truth, that he was not one of those incredibly rare special cases, and that he would protect her from any ghostly gods before she stopped freaking out when he got too close to her.

"A hero that's scared of ghosts," Rayquaza said, looking drained of life once she was finally calm. "Of all the-"

"Hey, it's a valid fear," May said, turning touchy at the implication that being scared of ghosts was somehow less heroic than whatever being afraid of the alternative was. Clowns, probably. A shame she didn't like those, either. "And heroes are human, too. They have fears, don't shame them for it."

Rayquaza stopped in his tracks. May wasn't concerned until he didn't rejoin her side, and she turned to look at him, several steps behind.

The face of a boy with eyes far too old for his physical age looked back at her. Rayquaza was pale, face slack with shock and pain like he had run through a Ghost-type and suffered for it.

"Ray?" she asked. She was a little hesitant about calling him by his 'name' for the first time, but anything that made a god of the sky look like that . . .

Call it worry for young boys who shouldn't make faces like that. So she was weak to outer appearances, sue her.

He blinked rapidly, breaking out of whatever spell he had been under.

"Right," Rayquaza said. His voice was deliberately dry, like he wanted to hide whatever he was feeling. "My apologies. I won't let any Ghost-types hurt you. I swear on my name."

That was . . . dramatic. But given the content not at all bad for her.

"Okay." At the very least, she wouldn't have to worry about dying via haunting or possession when a god was watching out for her. "Cool. No ghosts on May's and Ray's Journey Through Hoenn. Good deal, Ray-Ray."

Rayquaza looked utterly horrified at her blabbering or maybe just the nickname, and May cracked a smile. Score one for May.

But something he said bothered her.

"So, question," she said, because score one for her was great but her words had been embarrassing and she wanted to change the subject _now_. "It might be kind of sensitive, and I'll totally understand if you don't want to answer, but. How did the gods die?"

Because gods were supposed to be like, super powerful. Powerful enough to create land and sea, and depending on the myth even time and space.

If it was just one or two gods that died, she might have though, okay, they're just really, really powerful and old Pokémon that died.

But Rayquaza had said so himself – that most of the gods had died, himself included. And yet he was in front of her, reassuring her that no, he was not a ghost.

Rayquaza didn't look too bothered about her question, so either it wasn't as sensitive as she had worried for him, or he had a really good poker face.

"We didn't just die," he said slowly. "We were killed."

May fidgeted. Not . . . not exactly something you wanted to hear. Because that was what ghosts said and this was really a terrible idea.

"Can I have my Pokémon out for this?" she blurted out, rudely interrupting him. She needed support, damn it all. And also the ability to order a Confusion shot to the head if she got really scared.

"Go ahead," he said, and she immediately released Chamomile. The Ralts picked up on her need for emotional support and hopped into her arms, and May found her comfort levels raised to a very comfortable amount.

"Okay," she said, sighing with relief at the light weight in her arms. "Now I'm ready to hear more."

Rayquaza rolled his eyes at her antics.

"We were killed," he continued bluntly. "By a powerful sorcerer that made a deal with forces beyond reality's reach."

Cham's 'hair' fluttered anxiously. May patted her head to reassure her, and nodded, deciding just to accept it.

Except no, not really, because what.

"I understood only the first half of that," May admitted.

He didn't look exasperated at her lack of knowledge. In fact, Rayquaza didn't look surprised or anything like that, as if her ignorance was expected. "Think demons."

"I'm scared of _ghosts_ , what makes you think I'm going to be interested in horror movies?" May demanded. Horror wasn't her thing. Real life was plenty scary enough without going to the fictional world about it, thank you very much.

But still, the basic concept, sure, she could understand. Didn't movies involving demons and possessions basically go with exorcism attempts that failed or something? Make a deal with a demon, get powers. Kind of the same plot, right?

"Hold on," she said, something occurring to her. "Are you saying that demons are stronger than gods?"

Because if that was true nothing was safe. And also, the movies where the exorcism attempts failed and demons took over the world or something were unfortunately right. Despite the heat of the day, a chill went down her spine.

Rayquaza did scowl at that, fully offended.

"Of course not!" he snapped. "But as gods, we have an obligation to protect the mortals of this world – and that was how we were killed."

Fair point, May guessed. A fight to protect something was harder than a fight where the end goal was destroying stuff. One side had more to lose.

"So," May said, trying to summarize what she had just been told. "On a direct, one-on-one fight, the gods beat the demons. But the demons used the deal they made with the powerful sorcerer to . . . bypass it? Used the sorcerer as a proxy or a decoy since he was a mortal as well and technically under protection? Or threaten something the gods had to protect at the cost of putting themselves in a vulnerable position? To get to the gods, and that was how the gods were killed?"

His eyebrows rose. He looked impressed. "Along that line, yes, that's what happened."

Cool, her brain still worked even after using up most of its capacity cramming for the finals.

"The sorcerer made a deal and," Rayquaza paused to consider his words. "He created a natural disaster. One that required us to sacrifice our lives to fix, lest the rest of the world be corrupted and destroyed."

May took that to mean something like a heroic protagonist characters jumping to shield a child as a building collapsed, and heroically dying while the child, grimy and dusty but very much alive, lived on.

"Not quite. Think poison," Rayquaza said when she shared her imagined scenario. "We had to stop the poison of demons from spreading and died containing it."

Which was a more gruesome image.

Now, though, she had a bone to pick with the sorcerer.

"What was wrong with the sorcerer in this story?" she complained because blame the cause, not the victims, right? "Who decides, hey, I'm going to make a deal with demons and kill gods? Isn't that, I don't know, like sh-tting where you eat or something?"

"Language."

May scowled. She did _not_ need a younger-looking boy telling her to watch her language. "Buddy, don't _even_."

Rayquaza sighed like a weary old man, somehow scandalized by her choice in words despite being ancient enough to not care. One would think the sky god would care a lot less about the little things, but go figure.

"I don't know what the man was thinking," he admitted. "All I know is that he was consumed with vengeance for a perceived wrong and did not care about the consequences for anyone else, himself included, as long as he was able to extract his revenge."

"Great, a crazy psycho ruins the world," she muttered under her breath.

"I would not say the world was ruined," Rayquaza said, ears clearly sharp. "Even without the gods present, it still continued to exist, did it not? Until recently, the Age of Machines has progressed with the least amount of divine intervention in history since Creation."

May's jaw dropped. For a guy who was murdered, he was _really_ chill about it and even saying that it wasn't all that bad. And he was supposedly one of the most powerful gods in Hoenn, asking for her help to save the region. What even was her life right now.

"Of course," he continued. "The amount of magic in the world has also decreased dramatically since our unplanned departure. Perhaps the rapid progress that was made in our absence was due to the lack of magic."

Magic. Something Rayquaza said May could do, despite May herself being pretty sure she couldn't.

"What exactly _was_ magic?" she asked, because this was important questions time and to be honest, there was a part of her that was a little excited to learn magic. Just past the age when she still wanted to believe she had some special powers or destiny like the Hoenn Rangers Co-existence Force, but willing to accept a more real version of something beyond the usual, May had to admit Ray's speaking about heroes and magic got her wanting to learn. "Powers, I got it, cool. Psychic things like telekinesis and telepathy, we see that a lot, but you said there were other powers too."

"Magic _is_ , not _was_ , the ability to establish a connection with Pokémon," Rayquaza said simply. "The bond between a trainer and a Pokémon is still a remnant of the magic all humans could use. The nature of it has changed drastically in the short amount of time, but that was the basic foundations which allowed humans to survive. Any and all powers that came after – the psychic ones you mentioned, and whatever else – comes only after humans make a bond with Pokémon."

Her head spun. "What?"

"Human psychics," Rayquaza prodded. "You spoke of humans with psychic powers. Tell me – are they usually trainers?"

May thought about it. Sabrina, the name rising over in Kanto as a young, talented psychic trainer. The twins in Mossdeep, both training Psychic-types. And learning from other trainers at the Petalburg Gym that those who worked at Psychic-type gyms usually showed some signs of powers.

Huh. Well would you look at that.

"Yeah," she said. "I can't think of any legit psychics that aren't trainers."

Chamomile lightly hummed in May's arms, agreeing with what she had said.

"A bond between human and Pokémon makes both sides strong," Rayquaza said simply. "Just as a Pokémon alone will eventually reach its limits, so too will a human. No sorcerer, priest, knight or king in human history has ever reached their true potential without a partner Pokémon at their side, to bring out the best and the strongest side in them. Form a deep enough connection, and the human can with time take on the traits of the Pokémon they are closest to as well. The world might have forgotten advanced forms of magic, but the very basic premises of that partnership still remains rooted in all cultures and civilizations."

That . . . was true. Pokémon were just so integrally an important part of life that May couldn't imagine life without Pokémon. Even families that didn't have Pokémon still relied on services that needed Pokémon.

"Then," May frowned. "How come you don't see, I don't know, Fire-type specialists breathe fire or something?"

Rayquaza gave her a look, one that spoke volumes despite the silence, and May winced. Yeah, that sounded stupid, even to her.

But apparently the fire-breathing part hadn't been the stupid part of her question. "I told you – this age greatly lacks magic. It's simply easier for some types to manifest as powers for humans. Powers of the mind, such as psychic strengths, or the ability to speak to ghosts in their basest forms."

May shuddered.

"Which, clearly, won't be an option for you," he finished, lip twitching.

"It _better_ not be," May said vehemently. Saving Hoenn be damned, ghosts were just not up for negotiation.

Rayquaza shrugged. "It will be up to you," he said. "Like I said – humans develop magic in tandem to the bond they hold with their Pokémon. As you train with your team, your potential will awake, and we'll see where to go from there. Focus on raising your team and becoming stronger first, May."

Right.

"Get stronger, right. I'm thinking we challenge Rustboro's first," May said, deciding now would probably be a good time to share her plans with her fellow travel buddy. "It's a Rock-type Gym, so Ceylon might have a little trouble there, but I'm counting on her fire and Chammy's high Special Attack."

Chamomile chirped in determination, like she couldn't wait to blast some rocks with willpower.

"Assam might have some trouble but he's still coming along, because – what?" she stopped when she noticed his odd look.

Rayquaza looked at her, like he was trying to figure her out. "You're . . . discussing your strategy with me?"

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I am using you as a sounding board for my strategy."

"A what?"

"A wall to bounce ideas off of," she explained.

Rayquaza's inquisitive look did not dissolve into understanding. Rather, the silent question in it grew deeper.

"I need to talk my ideas through," May clarified, adjusting her grip on Chamomile to hide her embarrassment. "It helps me make them better. I'm a talker. I talk my way through things."

So if she didn't do well on her finals it was probably because she couldn't talk her reasoning through it, and she blamed the school system for it. Stupid silent rule. Different thinkers had different methods, and honestly it was so unfair.

He finally understood. "Would you like me to remain silent?"

May shook her head. "Throw in ideas when you get them. A talking sounding board is helpful too."

"In that case . . ." Rayquaza looked at Chammy, who stared back at him, before he made eye contact with May. "But what about the type disadvantage, and the low defenses your Ralts has?"

"Teleport, and her speed," May answered immediately. "She has Double Team as well, and between that we can cause enough chaos to send in a few well-timed Confusions and Magical Leaves. She'll be my ace."

Rayquaza didn't look fully convinced. "Doesn't this strategy rely too much on the Ralts surviving?"

May grinned at that. "It kind of does."

He studied her face. "You have something else up your sleeve."

Chamomile chirped, as if to say 'bingo' to his conclusion.

"Exactly," May agreed with her Ralts. "If it was a tournament or a battle against an individual, I'd be worried about how it's too dependent on Chamomile as well."

Having a father who thought so highly of the concept that he literally named his badge after 'balance' meant May grew up with the word being hammered into her head. Sometimes she couldn't hear or read the word without having an instinctual gag reflex kicking in.

Gag reflex trained or not, it definitely influenced her in the most impactful way ever, and her habit was always to check for a balance in her team. So no, usually she wouldn't have depeneded too much on one Pokémon to carry the entire strategy. That was risky, and balancewise a little too tipsy.

"But?"

"But," May echoed the magic word. "It's a Gym."

And she had not only worked at a gym as a trainer, but also happened to be the daughter of a Gym Leader. Policies in gym trainers and battles were all-too-clear for her.

"It's the first badge, so they go easy on the trainer." Like she had to, and like her father had to with challengers who were cutting their teeth with the Balance Badge. It was why she wasn't allowed to challenge Petalburg until she won four badges first, because her father didn't want to go easy on her.

Which she personally thought was a bit of a terrible reason to ban someone from his gym until she reached a certain badge limit, but he was the Gym Leader of Petalburg, and also her dad so.

Rustboro first.

"Cham's my ace, so she's going to be saved, and the other two are strong enough to take on a few Geodude by themselves," May said confidently.

Chamomile trilled and raised a slim arm. May lightly tapped her hand against it in a high five.

Rayquaza nodded, finally looking like he understood her line of thinking.

"I'm not saying," she added in case she was giving him the wrong idea. "That Gyms are pushovers. But I worked at one, and I know for a fact that we're not at a first badge level, so. It's confidence in our knowledge and in our teamwork, as well as taking advantage of the system and the rules in place."

"Not bad," he said thoughtfully. "Not bad at all."

* * *

AN: (late) Merry Christmas!


End file.
